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Plora mac-alpin 


AN EPISODE OF THE COURT OF JAMES VI 
OF SCOTLAND 


MARY STUART 

QUEEN OF SCOTS 


MRS. MAXWELL-SCOTT 

A. »* 



APR in m2 J 



H. L. Kilner & Co. 

PUBLISHERS 




\S 


Copyright, 1892 

BY 


H. L. KILNER & CO. 


CONTENTS, 


FLORA MAC ALPIN:— 

Introduction, , 

The Secret Cabinet, 

The Treasure Keeper, 

The Room with the Iron Door, 


MARY STUART:— 

Queen of Scots^ 





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INTRODUCTION. 


Never perhaps was royal crown heavier 
to bear than that of the last four sover- 
eigns of Scotland before the union of 
that monarchy with England. After a 
troubled reign, James IV. lost his life on 
the bloody field of Flodden, September 
9, 1513. Lord Dacre found under a heap 
of slain the body of the king torn by 
arrows and pierced by a halberd. The 
unfortunate prince was recognized only 
by the iron girdle, which he habitually 
wore in expiation of his criminal weakness 
in temporizing with the chiefs of the Scot- 
tish nobility, who revolted against his 
father and assassinated him in the mill 
of Beaton, June 18, 1488. His mortal 
remains, however, did not receive even 
the sad honor of burial which, ordinarily, 
an enemy does not refuse to the conquered 


6 


Introduction. 


and fallen. What were these strange 
destinies ? 

King James V. was scarcely thirteen 
years of age when he ascended the throne 
of Scotland. He was surrounded by a 
nobility of unbridled pride and ambition ; 
he saw himself ere long imprisoned in 
Falkland castle by some of the chief 
nobles of the realm. He was released in 
1528 after a captivity of three years. 
He never pardoned these lords the cruel 
treatment he had endured, and ever bore 
in mind the threatening words addressed 
to him by George Douglas, Earl of Angus, 
at the moment when they heard in the 
vicinity of Falkland the roar of the 
artillery of the Earl of Lennox, who had 
hastened to deliver the royal prisoner : 

“ Let not your Majesty hope to escape 
us. Should our adversaries hold you by 
one arm, we would seize you by the other, 
and rather would we see you torn asunder 
than release our grasp.” 

The Douglas family had thus become 
the special object of the young king’s 
resentment. Having obtained his free- 
dom he pursued them unmercifully. 
When plausible motives failed him, he 


Introduction. 


7 


invented pretexts to gratify his thirst for 
vengeance. Thus Jane Douglas, the 
sister of the Earl of Angus and wife of 
Archibald Campbell, of Kepneith, a 
young woman of great beauty and rare 
accomplishments, was accused of the 
double crime of sorcery and treason, and 
burned at the stake in Edinburgh. How- 
ever, the severity exercised against the 
hostile barons created a violent reaction 
against the implacable sovereign, and the 
feeling had reached such a height that 
murmurs and threats were heard from 
the excited populace when he delivered 
to the executioner Sir Hamilton de 
Draphane, execrated as that soldier was 
for his savage brutality and for the many 
murders he had committed. Then James 
began for the first time to reflect upon 
the course he had pursued. Very soon 
the death of his two sons, the shameful 
defeat of his nobility at Fala in 1542, 
when the king of England, Henry VI 1 1 ., 
had taken up arms against Scotland, and 
shortly afterwards, the bloody rout of 
his army at Solway Moore, filled him 
with dismay. A prey to despair, and 
perhaps also to remorse, he shut himself 


8 


Introduction. 


up in the castle of Falkland, where he 
died December 7, 1542, at the age of 
thirty-one. 

The lamentable history of his daughter, 
Mary Stuart, who was born the same 
year, is too well known to need repeti- 
tion. 

The tragic end of that beautiful and 
unfortunate queen was not, however, the 
last trial reserved for the royal line of the 
Stuarts. James VI., the son of Mary, had 
more than one storm to encounter before 
ascending the throne of England, to which 
he was elevated in 1603, after the death 
of Queen Elizabeth, under the title of 
James I., sovereign of the united king- 
doms. 

An event in the life of this prince 
forms the subject of the narrative we 
now offer to our readers. 


FLORA MAC-ALPIN. 


CHAPTER 1. 

THE SECRET CABINET. 

During the reign of Queen Elizabeth, 
there stood in an alley that opened on a 
very narrow street in the vicinity of the 
site now occupied by St. Paul’s church, 
two houses facing each other. The in- 
mates were not on more friendly terms 
than were formerly the Montagues and 
Capulets of Verona. The deep enmity 
existing between the families had origi- 
nated in the simple question as to which 
of the masters of the two houses should 
be entrusted the repairing of the stained 
glass windows of St. Michael’s church. 
Both enjoyed the honorable position 
of court-glazier. 


lo Flora Mac~Alpin. 

In truth, one of the neighbors, Master 
Gilles Breadbottom, a most peaceful man 
who loved a can of ale above all else, 
and a rich plum-pudding as well as him- 
self, would probably, have willingly agreed 
to share with his rival. Master Lancelot 
Young, the work of placing in the arched 
windows of St. Michael’s the beautiful 
stained glass which, by order of the 
queen, had been removed from the sup- 
pressed convent of Thune in Surrey. 
But, unfortunately, the wife of the for- 
mer, Mistress Barbara Breadbottom, and 
the housekeeper of the latter. Miss 
Griselda Grimm, had been sworn ene- 
mies for years. At first, this war did not 
appear in open hostilities, but the ques- 
tion of placing the windows suddenly 
imparted to it a spirit of incredible bitter- 
ness, There was, indeed, between the 
two women too decided a contrast to al- 
low them to live any length of time in 
peace, with their residences so near that 
they could not approach their windows 
without seeing each other. Mistress 
Breadbottom was so corpulent that Miss 
Griselda gave her the insulting epithet 
of block of tallow. The wife of Master 


The Secret Cabinet. 1 1 

Gilles did not, on her part, spare her 
ancient friend, but asserted that every 
time Miss Griselda made the least move- 
ment her extreme emaciation caused her 
bones to clack and snap. The two dif- 
fered as much in character and habits as 
in their personal appearance. The first 
had adopted her honorable husband’s 
luxurious habits ; the second, on the con- 
trary, was extremely parsimonious, and 
showed so decided an aversion to incur 
the expense of even the simplest fare, 
that Master Lancelot was often com- 
pelled to make a vigorous protest against 
the meagre repasts she placed before 
him, and to assure her that his affairs 
were in a sufficiently flourishing condi- 
tion to justify a more lavish expenditure. 
We may add that Mistress Bread- 
bottom hesitated somewhat in her speech, 
whilst Miss Griselda’s tongue possessed 
prodigious volubility, resembling the sharp 
and crackling sound of the best alarm 
clock. This comparison may be, per- 
haps, an exaggeration ; but it was one, 
however, used by the master of the 
house himself when in bad humor, 
though we must admit he was very care- 


12 Flora Mac-Alpin. 

ful that Miss Griselda should not hear 
him ; he contented himself with mutter- 
ing this rhetorical figure to Miss Flora 
Mac-Alpin, his pupil, who suffered as well 
as himself from the annoying loquacity 
and extreme parsimony of his house- 
keeper. 

Lancelot Young was a middle-aged 
bachelor. He possessed some means, 
and his trade was very profitable. On 
undertaking the care of Flora, who 
passed for his niece, he had engaged the 
services of Miss Griselda Grimm, a dis- 
tant relative, to manage his household 
and attend to the young girl whilst he 
was occupied with the duties of his pro- 
fession. At first, mistress of the kitchen 
alone, Griselda had gradually extended 
her sway over the whole house, man- 
aging so adroitly that she ultimately 
ruled absolutely. She reigned and gov- 
erned at the same time ; for the habit of 
authority not unfrequently brings with it 
the abuse of authority. Sometimes her 
despotism reached such a pitch as to 
goad the peaceful and much-enduring 
Master Lancelot into a furious passion, 
and to force him to revolt against this 


The Secret Cabinet. 


13 


autocratic usurpation. At such times 
the imperious housekeeper would ex- 
claim : 

“ Is this the way you treat me — I who 
sacrificed the best years of my life to 
keep your house, and have managed it 
better for your interests than if it had 
been my own? You have no feeling, 
you are a heartless, odious, ungrateful 
man ! ” 

Then would ensue a tempest of cries, 
an avalanche of reproaches and recrimina- 
tions. When a torrent of bitter words had 
made a good foundation, tears completed 
the victory, that is to say, forced the 
honest glazier to vacate the ground. He 
would quickly take his hat and cane, and 
leave the house. 

At the period of which we write, a 
scene of this kind had just taken place. 
Master Young, according to his custom, 
had hastily retreated, and Miss Griselda, 
in a state of extreme irritation, remained 
mistress of the battlefield ; she was alone 
in the apartment with Flora Mac-Alpin. 
In spite of the prompt retreat of the 
master of the house. Miss Grimm’s anger 
was far from being appeased. 


14 Flora Mac-Alpin. 

“ O Lord ! Men ! Men ! What mon- 
sters they are ! ” she cried, cracking her 
bony fingers. 

Flora, a charming blonde of eighteen 
years, who had remained seated before 
the embroidery frame in a corner of the 
room, and had carefully avoided inter- 
fering between her guardian and his 
shrewish cousin, raised her great blue 
eyes and said in her sweetest tones to 
Miss Griselda: 

“ How can you, dear Cousin, speak in 
this manner of my uncle who is so good, 
and to whom you owe so much grati- 
tude ? ” 

“Now this impertinent little miss 
takes it upon herself to give me advice ! 
To me who, thank God, have come to 
the age of reason, and who am capable 
of judging right from wrong ! ” exclaimed 
the irritated housekeeper, anger flashing 
from her small gray eyes. 

“ The cousin is so good, you say ! 
Upon my faith, I do not admire the kind 
of goodness which shows us so little con- 
fidence as to hide from us his secrets.” 

From this new outburst. Flora, per- 
ceiving that she had offended Miss 


The Secret Cabinet. 


15 


Griselda, hastened to make an inquiry as 
to the glazier’s secrets serve as a light- 
ning rod to her wrath. 

“ You are right, dear Cousin,” she 
said ; “ my uncle appears to be much 
preoccupied, and I notice that every day 
he becomes more silent.” 

“ If one could understand the cause of 
this intolerable humor, but he is as im- 
penetrable as a rock. He has, for a 
long time, talked only of death' and 
burials. Do you suppose that he has a 
fancy to become a gravedigger ? ” 

“ Indeed, Cousin,” replied the young 
girl, pushing aside her embroidery, “ I 
have often thought of, but have never 
been able to discover the cause of his 
deep melancholy. Besides, uncle has 
hitherto been so good-humored, cheerful 
and happy ! How delighted he was 
when he had arranged to bring the 
precious windows from the monastery of 
Sheene to place them in St. Michael’s 
church. "When he heard that our gra- 
cious sovereign herself had ordered that 
he alone should undertake this difficult 
work, because he was a better artisan 
than his neighbor, Breadbottom, and it 


1 6 Flora Mac-Alpin. 

required more than ordinary care to re- 
move those fine windows, how joyfully 
he exclaimed : “ Her Majesty is not de- 
ceived in regard to Lancelot Young’s tal- 
ent ; I will construct from the ddbris of 
this chef d'ceuvre a window that will be 
the admiration of posterity. You also 
remember, Cousin, how zealously he la- 
bored for .four months at Sheene and at 
London, going, returning, measuring, and 
adjusting each bit of glass ; in a word, re- 
composing, piece by piece, those magnifi- 
cent stained glass windows which to-day 
astonish the world. But scarcely was this 
work completed than occurred the inex- 
plicable circumstance which introduced 
mourning into our house. From that 
time, uncle has ceased to take pleasure 
in anything whatever, and he pales every 
time the monastery of Sheene is men- 
tioned.” 

“ That is true ! ” cried the house- 
keeper, tossing her head significantly. 
“ It is certainly from that period we may 
date the state of things we are now con- 
sidering. I attributed the cause to his 
disagreement with Breadbottom, but it 
is difficult to believe that so small a dif- 


The Secret Cabinet. 17 

ference could be capable of angering 
cousin. But now I think I see more 
clearly into this affair. ...” 

“What have you found out?” Flora 
excitedly interrupted, with natural curi- 
osity. 

Griselda did not reply to this question. 
She confined herself to a negative ges- 
ture, as if to say she was not disposed to 
make the least explanation on this point. 

“ Truly, dear Cousin, I do not under- 
stand you, ” continued the young girl 
with an air of pique. “ Have I ever be- 
trayed your confidence ? Do you think 
me capable of such indiscretion ? ” 

“Assuredly not, my child,” answered 
Griselda, as if she would be glad to 
have forced from her the secret, which 
was burning her tongue. “ Listen to 
what I say, but promise me that your 
uncle shall never hear a word of what 
I disclose.” 

“ Oh ! have no fear on that point,” 
said Flora Mac-Alpin, “ Even if I were 
foolish enough to be so imprudent, 
would not the fear of increasing my 
uncle’s distress be sufficient reason to im 
^uce me to preserve silence ? ’’ 


i8 Flora Mac-Alpin. 

“Very well; attend to me,” continued 
Miss Grimm. “You know that about 
three weeks after placing the windows in 
St. Michael’s, your uncle became morose 
and taciturn, and he has never been him- 
self since. Until that time, he frequent- 
ly talked of the visit he made with 
Breadbottom to the Monastery of 
Sheene, of the precautions they took in 
packing the glass windows, and of the 
many antiquities they had found in the 
corners and nooks of the old abbey. 
But afterwards, he suddenly ceased to 
tell us of these objects, and I am inclined 
to think that he was offended by the fat 
wife, who reported everywhere, that 
after using Breadbottom’s skill to take 
out the windows, assort the pieces and 
pack them, he had ungratefully thrown 
his colleague aside, and had taken upon 
himself the charge of putting them in 
St. Michael’s church. I inquired of your 
uncle if he was sensitive to the lying 
prattle of our neighbor. 

“ ‘ Oh! no,’ he growled, ‘it is of no con- 
sequence to me what is said. If it be 
necessary, there are a hundred persons 
at court who will testify that I perforrned 


The Secret Cabinet, 19 

the work under an express order from 
the Queen. 

However, there is another thing worthy 
of remark, his ill-humor changed to a de- 
cided melancholy the very day our stam- 
mering neighbor took a notion to hang 
over her door a chattering magpie's cage." 

‘'This is what you have to tell?" 
laughed Flora. “ Is this, good Cousin, 
the secret that you hesitated just now to 
confide to me ? Certainly, it was well 
worth the trouble to recommend me to 
be prudent! To abandon one's self to mel- 
ancholy because of a chattering magpie ! 
It is a strange idea ! For once, dear 
Cousin, I think that your penetration is 
entirely at fault. I recall perfectly now 
the day that Mistress Breadbottom hung 
her cage above the door, and I re- 
member that my uncle was amused at 
the idea of being offended by a bird." 

“Very well, very well," interrupted Miss 
Griselda, “explain tome, if you can, 
why your uncle, who seems to care for 
nothing, becomes pale when the magpie 
calls him thief, brigand, assassin, and 
why he trembles when the bird cries 
‘ felon,' or ‘ executioner."’ 


20 


Flora Mac-Alpin. 


After reflecting a moment, Flora said, 
“I have indeed noticed several times 
that, when the bird cries out those 
frightful words, uncle changes color, 
suddenly rises from his chair, strides 
through the apartment, and appears 
much excited.” 

“You have remarked it also!” ex- 
claimed Miss Griselda, gratified to find 
in these words her spirit of observation 
verified. “ I perceived it from the first 
day, and no great penetration was needed 
for that.” 

“ But,” objected the astonished girl, 
“ I cannot comprehend how the words, 
‘felon,’ ‘cut-throat’ can cause my uncle 
so much emotion. How do you explain 
that. Cousin?” 

The respectable Miss Grimm mysteri- 
ously approached her questioner, and 
looking cautiously around, to be assured 
that no one was within hearing, she 
whispered the following words in Flora’s 
ear. 

“ I believe that your uncle has, perhaps, 
been guilty of some crime of high-t reason.” 

The young girl trembled violently and 
looked at her cousin in terror. 


The Secret Cabinet. 


21 


“Impossible! impossible!” she ex- 
claimed, with inexpressible fear. “ It is 
true that I do not understand what con- 
stitutes the cause of high treason ; but 
it must be a great offence, judging , by 
the number of persons who have lately 
expiated their treason on the scaffold. 
Would my uncle, for instance, unite 
in a conspiracy against the Queen — God 
protect her ! — such as caused Babington 
and others to be beheaded recently? 
No one could make me believe that.” 

“You do not understand, my child; 
that is not it. Your uncle is not the 
stuff of which conspirators are made. 
He may have easily committed an act 
regarded as the crime of high treason or 
felony. The king, Henry VI 1 1., father 
of our gracious sovereign, pronounced 
felonious many acts apparently very 
innocent, so that a skilful judge could 
readily construe them in a manner to 
bring half the nation to the block ; and 
an honorable man might rise in the 
morning as innocent as a lamb, and be- 
fore the evening be accused and found 
guilty of atrocious crimes without having 
during the entire day seen a living soul.” 


22 


Flora Mac-Alpin. 


“ My God, this is fearful, this is 
horrible ! ” cried Flora, clasping her 
hands. 

" Yes, it is certainly horrible,” rejoined 
her cousin. 

“ What do you imagine uncle may 
have done?” inquired the orphan, who, 
in spite of her fright, could not restrain 
her curiosity. 

" Ah ! that is exactly the difficult ques- 
tion to answer,” replied Miss Griselda, 
clapping her hands and causing the bones 
to crack, confirming in a measure the 
justice of the sobriquet conferred on her 
by Mistress Breadbottom. “ Unfortu- 
nately,” she continued, although I have 
taken great pains, I have not been able 
to discover the mystery.” 

“ But you must have some basis for 
your suspicions even to have thought of 
such a thing. ...” 

“ Listen to me. Flora,” interrupted the 
housekeeper, “but be careful not to breathe 
a word of what I say. I think that as 
your uncle pales and is agitated when he 
hears the words ‘felon’ and ‘cut-throat,’ 
he must, consequently, have been guilty 
of felony or cutting off the head of some 


The Secret Cabinet. 23 

one. That seems to me as clear as sun- 
light.” 

“ My dear Cousin, you make another 
absurd supposition. Uncle has too great 
a horror of blood to have ever dreamed 
of cutting off the head of any living crea- 
ture. Did he even permit you to kill 
the old drake that paddled in the back 
court ? Besides, he is not in the least 
troubled when the magpie calls the word 
‘assassin.’ It is evident that had he 
really committed such a crime, this word 
would produce the same effect on him as 
the words ‘ felon ’ and ‘ cut-throat.’ ” 

“ Your observation is not devoid of 
sense,” replied Miss Grimm. “ Indeed, 
I did not suppose that reasoning so 
sound could proceed from a head as 
preoccupied as yours with ribbons and 
laces, especially, as has been the case 
during the last two months, since Master 
Lancelot brought here the page, John 
Ramsey, the one who accompanied the 
Scottish Embassy. However, I have 
penetrated farther than you into the 
mystery which excites our curiosity. I 
believe that I am on the right track.” 

“To what conclusion have you ar- 


24 Flora Mac-Alpin. 

rived ? ” inquired Flora, whose face was 
suffused at the mention of John Ramsey’s 
name. 

“Attend, dear child,” said Miss Griselda, 
lowering her voice, “ have you never 
heard of the secret society of Templars ? ” 

“ Certainly, dear Cousin ! when our 
neighbor Breadbottom and my uncle 
were friendly, I often heard him say that 
they belonged to an ancient order of 
chivalry founded at the time of the 
Crusades for the defence of Jerusalem.” 

“ Did he not also tell that the Templars 
adored a human head and carried it with 
them in all their journeys ? ” 

“ Not precisely that. He spoke simply 
of a head of a child found in a tomb 
which the Templars regarded as bringing 
them a blessing.” 

“You have it!” cried Miss Griselda. 
“Now, I tell you, your uncle is prob- 
ably a Templar; because he has in his 
possession such a head.” 

“ Nonsense ! you are certainly jesting,” 
exclaimed Flora with an incredulous air ; 
“and if you have not better founded proofs 
to support what you say, I will never be- 
lieve . . . .” 


The Secret Cabinet. 


25 


“ Before refusing to place confidence 
in what I tell you, at least wait until you 
know whether I have not positive reasons 
to support my suppositions,” sharply in- 
terrupted Miss Grimm. “ The best of 
my reasons is that I have seen the head 
in question ; yes, with my own eyes.” 

“ Ah ! that is another thing,” murmured 
Flora, with a fear that she could hardly 
conceal. “ But tell me, good Cousin.” 

“ You know, my dear,” interrupted anew 
Griselda, casting a mysterious glance 
upon a cabinet in the corner, “ you know 
that your uncle keeps in that cabinet an 
ebony casket which has a perfume of 
strong aromatic plants, and which has 
frequently excited my curiosity. I at 
first concluded that he had purchased it 
from some seaman recently returned 
from the Indies, and that it contained 
spices for table use, and I often pressed 
him to place it in my care. But Cousin 
Lancelot would never listen to my pro- 
posal ; on the contrary, he appeared to 
wish to conceal it from me more carefully. 
One day in particular, he answered 
me with harshness to which we are 
unused, ‘ I pray you. Cousin, not to 


26 


Flora Mac-Alpin. 


speak to me again of this casket ! it does 
not contain spices. It is a natural curi- 
osity preserved by means of the aromat- 
ics of which you notice the odor.’ ” 

“ As you affirm that it contains a head, 
you have then examined it unknown to 
my uncle!” Flora said, in a reproachful 
tone. 

“ If I had done so. my dear, it would 
have been with the best intentions,” the 
housekeeper replied, in a voice that be- 
traj^ed some bitterness. 

“ How then do you know what the 
casket encloses ? ” 

“ Have patience, my child. By chance, 
one evening, your uncle opened the 
cabinet door to search for some designs 
he needed. He bade me leave the room, 
and locked the door. As I stood in the 
vestibule, I suddenly noticed a bright 
ray of light shining through the keyhole. 
Attracted by the unusual light, and fear- 
ing there might be a broken wick in the 
candle, I looked through the keyhole, 
and I saw . . . my God ! shall I tell 
you ? . . . I saw the casket open on 
the table, the candlestick by the side, 
and your uncle standing, holding in his 


The Secret Cabinet. 


27 


hands ... I defy you to guess . . . 
he held in his hands a human head with 
black beard and hair.” 

“ Can it be possible ? you must be 
mistaken ! You did not see well ! ” cried 
the young girl in horror. 

“ No, no, my child, I saw perfectly 
well ; I declare the truth.” 

For some seconds the two speakers 
regarded each other in silence, the one 
full of consternation at what she had just 
heard ; the other affected by the remem- 
brance of the mysterious head that she 
had seen. 

Griselda was the first to speak. “ Now, 
my little Flora,” she said, placing her fin- 
ger on her lips, “ we must be silent as the 
grave. Now a word, not a syllable of 
what you have learned ; the slightest indis- 
cretion might draw on us the greatest mis- 
fortunes. Beware of alluding in any way 
to the secret that I have confided to you. 
Above all, never refer to the casket in the 
presence of your uncle. Be so prudent 
as not even to look in the direction of 
the cabinet. . . . But, in the name of 
heaven, what is the matter, child ? ” she 
tremblingly asked, hearing Flora scream 


28 Flora Mac-Alpin. 

and point towards the mysterious cab- 
inet. 

“ Look ! uncle has left the key in the 
lock ; that never happened before,” the 
young girl answered in a voice changed 
by terror. 

“ It is so,” her Cousin exclaimed, seiz- 
ing Flora’s hand. “ If we had the key of 
the casket we could examine this head 
which your uncle so carefully conceals.” 

“Well, Cousin, the key is in a vase on 
top of the cabinet. One day I saw uncle 
take it quickly from the lock and throw it 
in there.” 

“In that case, let us open the cabinet 
first, then the casket, and examine it at 
our leisure. We cannot say that we are 
committing a fault, for we already know 
what the casket contains. ” 

“Yes, yes, Cousin, let us look,” Flora 
added, her curiosity being greatly ex- 
cited. 

She walked to the place as she spoke, 
but suddenly stopped as if her feet had 
been nailed to the floor ; turned pale, 
and murmured : “ My God ! my God ! 

I dare not do it ; fear overpowers me.” 

“Is that all?” said Miss Griselda; “I 


The Secret Cabinet, 29 

have courage for both,” and she resolutely 
approached the cabinet. 

She turned the key, opened the door, 
stood on a chair, took the key from the 
vase, and placed the casket on the table. 
But as she prepared to open it. Flora sud- 
denly caught her hand and cried out : 

“Wait one moment. Cousin; I tremble 
from head to foot.” 

“ Pshaw ! The fears of a child ! Let 
me alone I tell you.” 

The key was inserted in the lock whilst 
she was still speaking, and the ebony 
casket whence exhaled a strong, aromatic 
odor was opened. 

The two women remained some time 
silent. Flora could not conceal her terror; 
she dared not approach, and hardly had 
the courage to glance over her compan- 
ion’s shoulder at the contents of the 
dreaded casket. 

The interior was cased with lead, lined 
with red velvet ; the embalmed head was 
in perfect preservation. It must have 
belonged to a man of about thirty years 
of age. The flesh had a yellowish tint, 
and the eyes were closed as if in sleep. 
Although the visage had not suffered 


30 Flora Mac-Alpin. 

any alteration, it wore a certain expres- 
sion of sadness and bitterness, especially 
about the lines of the mouth, which was 
slightly open, displaying very white teeth. 
Black hair, rather short, curled around the 
temples, extended around the chin, and 
graced the upper lip. The head was far 
from exciting a feeling either of horror 
or repulsion, and the terror which Flora 
at first experienced, diminished by de- 
grees. 

“ With what frightful barbarity, men 
sometimes act towards each other ! ” Miss 
Griselda at last exclaimed. “ They fight 
for the merest trifle, a word, a nothing ; 
they wound and destroy each other like 
wild animals. If this man, instead of 
exposing himself and having his throat 
cut, had led a quiet life and listened to 
the law of God, he would, perhaps, have 
died at a fine old age, and we would not 
now have his head before us.” 

“You are right, dear Cousin,” replied 
the young girl; “ but if this head, as you 
suppose, was brought from the East by 
the Templars, it may have belonged to 
some miscreant and there is not half the 
evil. . . .” 


The Secret Cabinet. 31 

“ What are you saying, my little 
Flora ? ” interrupted Miss Griselda. ‘‘ The 
life of every human creature is equally 
precious in the sight of God ; the life of 
the man upon whom Heaven has not yet 
bestowed the gift of grace, and the life 
of the man who has received the light of 
truth.” 

Cousin ! Cousin ! listen !” at this 
moment called out Master Lancelot’s 
niece, trembling from head to foot. 

‘'Well, what is the matter with you?” 
demanded Miss Grimm, looking at her 
in astonishment. 

“ I think I hear steps. My uncle has 
certainly returned. . . .” 

At this instant the housekeeper also 
recognized the glaziers footsteps, and 
rushed to the door to draw the bolt. 
Unfortunately, Master Lancelot’s hand 
was already on the knob. The door was 
opened, and the two women stood in 
motionless consternation, feeling Master 
Young’s eye fixed in anger upon them. 
Lancelot Young was fifty years of age, 
but apparently was not over forty; thanks 
to a sober, regular and always active life, 
his vigor and almost youthful appearance 


32 Flora Mac-Alpin. 

had been well preserved, his features 
were rather full and his complexion high- 
colored. The ensemble did not consti- 
tute what is generally called manly 
beauty ; but his countenance, always 
sweet and benevolent, expressed the 
goodness of his heart, and sometimes in 
his artistic reveries, his face became 
radiant with intellectual light. The hon- 
est glazier was not a simple artisan in 
the restricted sense in which we, at pre- 
sent, employ the word. For example, 
like a number of others who in the six- 
teenth century pursued the same profes- 
sion, he could justly claim the title of 
artist, and he held a distinguished rank 
among, the painters and engravers on 
glass, whose productions are now eagerly 
sought. 

Lancelot Young’s consternation equal- 
led the women’s, when on entering the 
apartment he saw the ebony casket open 
on the table. He stood aghast, his face 
frightfully pale, and the good man seemed 
to lose the power of speech. 

“Wretched women! what have you 
done ?” he said, after a silence which to 
each must have appeared a century. 


The Secret Cabinet. 


33 


“You have deceived me. But what is 
done, is done,” he added, casting his eyes 
wildly around. “Nothing remains now 
but to bring in the sheriff. Let the 
Queen’s officers arrest me, imprison me in 
the Tower, and . . .” 

He had not the strength to finish, 
his hand mechanically sought the sup- 
port of a chair, on which he leaned 
heavily. 

Flora approached him, “Uncle, dear 
Uncle, forgive us,” she said, suppliantly 
clasping her hands, 

Griselda locked the casket, returned 
it to its place ; threw the key on the 
table and took refuge in her tongue — her 
habitual weapon. 

“ Come ! come ! ” she exclaimed, “ what 
misfortune can there be in our having 
seen this head ! Beside, is it our fault 
that we opened the casket ? Is it not 
rather the fault of Uncle Lancelot him- 
self? If, like a judicious man who has 
no secrets from his household, he had 
told candidly what the casket contained, 
we would not have been obliged to look 
at it clandestinely.” 

Pointedly addressing Master Yqung 


34 


Flora Mac-Alpin. 


in her most sneering tone, she continued : 
“ You are most miserable, are you not, 
now that we know you belong to the 
order of Templars? But have no fear; 
not a soul shall hear a word about it 
and no harm will befall you ? ” 

Lancelot breathed more freely after 
this speech. He raised his head sud- 
denly and fixedly regarded his house- 
keeper. 

“ Cousin,” he said, “ Cousin, your mind 
wandeps; I repeat, you wander. Upon 
my soul, I no more belong to the order of 
Templars than our gracious Sovereign 
herself. The head in that casket has no 
connection with them, as you will learn 
hereafter.” 

“ Dear Uncle,” interrupted Flora, wip- 
ing away the large tears that rolled down 
her cheeks like liquid pearls, “ for a long 
time my cousin and myself have noticed 
in you a great change. You are melan- 
choly and your mind always seems pre- 
occupied. The change in you is doubtless 
caused by the possession of this head. 
I implore you to get rid of it, and try, 
in some way, to put an end to the disqui- 
etude which so evidently torments you. 


The Secret Cabinet. 


35 


and to remorse, if there is anything 
with which your conscience reproaches 
you ; but that I cannot believe.” 

“You are right, my dear child,” replied 
Lancelot, looking at the young girl 
almost smilingly. “ You are perfectly 
right. Your candid and simple mind 
has fathomed the truth. Another motive 
also, which I will tell you later, de- 
termines me to take a course which 
has occupied my thoughts for some 
months.” 

Then addressing Griselda, he said, 
firmly and decidedly: “To-morrow at 
break of day, we three will leave for 
Scotland. I beg you to make all the 
necessary preparations for our depart- 
ure.” 

“God help us ! of what are you think- 
ing? Are you mad. Cousin Lancelot?” 
exclaimed the startled housekeeper. 
“ What ! you will take us to Scotland, to 
that barbarous country where life is not 
safe even in mid-day on the royal 
highway ? I do really believe that you 
have lost your senses. What do you 
suppose will become of your house when 
I am absent ? our beer will sour, our 


36 Flora Mac-Alpin. 

flour will spoil, our bacon become rancid, 
and . . . ” 

“ Enough, Cousin, enough ; what I 
have ordered must be done,” the glazier 
replied, so decidedly that Griselda was 
silenced. “ I do not care if the beer 
turns sour, the flour spoils, and the hams 
become rancid ; to-morrow at day-dawn 
we leave for Scotland.” 

“You will, at least, permit me to 
remain at home,” she objected, in a low 
tone. 

“ Neither you nor anybody,” returned 
Lancelot positively, “ and for fear that 
you may divulge to some one the con- 
tents of the casket which you have un- 
fortunately seen, you and Flora will both 
be confined to the house from the 
present moment to the time of our 
departure.” 

Griselda had not strength to reply to 
this command ; it was the first time that 
she had heard Master Young speak in 
such an imperious tone. She cast a 
significant glance at Flora and touched 
her brow with her finger, being careful 
however not to let Master Lancelot 
see the gesture. If she had dared 


The Secret Cabinet. 


37 


to speak, her action translated would 
have been : “ This man is evidently 

crazy.” 

The glazier was a short time silent, and 
then said : 

“ The moment has arrived when I 
should tell the whole truth : my personal 
affairs are not entirely the object of the 
journey ; on the contrary, I am but 
slightly interested. The care of your 
future. Flora, is principally the cause of 
this decision.” 

“How, dear Uncle, my future?” 
the orphan inquired, in profound as- 
tonishment. 

“Yes, my child, your future, because 
you must know . . . you are not my 
niece.” 

“Oh! Uncle! who then am I?” 

“ Flora Mac-Alpin,” resumed Master 
Young, “ in the midst of the troubles 
and the perils by which your country, 
Scotland, has been so long surrounded, 
there have been times when the loftiest 
heads could only find safety under 
the humblest roofs. It was in such a 
moment that a personage, formerly 
eminent at the Scottish Court, confided 


38 


Flora Mac-Alpin. 


to me a letter, exacting from me a 
promise, that as soon as I heard of his 
death I would open it and consci- 
entiously execute the commissions it 
contained. Yesterday I heard of the 
death of this man, who was long pro- 
scribed ; his name will be revealed to 
you at the proper time and place, I 
have opened the letter ; it directs me 
to take you to Scotland and place 
you . , But later you will know the 
rest.” 

Flora was stupefied by this disclosure. 
She could not realize the situation ; it 
appeared a painful dream, and in a voice 
broken by sobs, she cried : 

“ It is impossible ! it cannot be ! O 
Master Young, you will not cast me off! 
you will not abandon me to stran- 
gers. ...” 

“ Be calm. Flora, be calm,” replied 
the good man ; “ I will never separate 
from you without the certainty that your 
happiness is as solidly assured elsewhere 
as with myself.” 

“ But how can that be if I am sepa- 
rated from you ? ” the orphan answered, 
with the tears streaming down her 


The Secret Cabinet. 


39 

cheeks. “ I have been so happy, so 
happy in your house. ...” 

“ My child, it shall always be your 
home under every circumstance. You 
only exchange the humble and modest 
life which you have led here for a nobler 
position, and one worthy the name 
which you have the right to bear.” 

“You speak to me of a higher 
position. I desire none other than I 
have known under your roof, and my 
dearest wish is to remain here. ...” 

“No, Flora,” Lancelot affectionately 
objected, “when you were confided to 
my care by the personage to whom I 
have alluded, I promised him to neglect 
nothing to ensure your happiness ; 
consequently, I cannot permit you to 
reject a possible happiness. We leave 
then for Scotland ; but you will be 
entirely free to accept the new destiny 
proffered you or to return.” 

“To what part of Scotland do you 
propose to carry us ? ” demanded Cousin 
Grimm, to whom the idea of Lancelot’s 
journey seemed a crazy inspiration, and 
she eagerly watched the first favorable 
moment to speak. 


40 


Flora Mac-Alpin. 


“To the court of King James, wher- 
ever he may be found, ” the glazier 
answered, after a moment’s reflection. 

“Now, Cousin,” he added, “attend to 
putting the house in order, and making 
preparations. It is absolutely necessary 
that we depart in the morning at sunrise. 
I am anxious to leave the house, and I 
feel that I shall return to it more 
tranquil and better satisfied than I ever 
entered it in my life.” 


CHAPTER 11. 


THE TREASURE-KEEPER. 

The following day at early dawn all 
was activity in the glazier’s house. The 
arrangements for their departure were 
completed, and Master Young and his 
companions only awaited the equipage 
which had been engaged for the journey. 

Mistress Breadbottom, who always 
arose at the first crowing of the cock, 
could not believe her eyes when she saw 
by the uncertain light of the morning 
two horses, magnificently caparisoned, 
stop before her neighbor’s door, and she 
thought her imagination deceived her 
when Master Young, awkwardly enough, 
mounted one of the horses, after having 
carefully secured behind the saddle an 
enormous valise and a small sealed cas- 
ket enveloped in a thick cloth. Her 
wonder increased when she beheld Flora 
and Miss Griselda mount the other horse 


42 


Flora Mac-Alpin. 


and place themselves back to back upon 
one of those double saddles which were 
still in use in the seventeenth century ; 
then this singular cavalcade passed the 
alley and disappeared around the corner 
of the street. 

At this spectacle, Mistress Breadbot- 
tom stood so long aghast with astonish- 
ment, that she gave the uncharitable 
Griselda an inexhaustible text for pleas- 
antries, which contributed not a little to 
lessen the weariness of the first day’s jour- 
ney. 

“ Did you remark, dear child,” said 
Miss Griselda to her young companion, 
“ the ludicrous air of our fat neighbor ? 
She was speechless, and her poor magpie 
did not open its beak ! Both were 
equally amazed ! ” 

Master Young in the mean time, kept 
strict silence, and seemed to be painfully 
absorbed in thought. His heart was 
much oppressed, and he felt no relief 
until the last roofs and steeples of the 
city disappeared below the horizon. 
Then he breathed freely. 

The party travelled by easy stages 


The Treasure-Keeper. 43 

towards the North. Fearing to fatigue 
his companions, the glazier started each 
morning quite late, and stopped before 
nightfall. These short journeys were 
yet more abridged by frequent halts that 
he ordered to be made in the numerous 
villages through which they passed ; they 
consequently advanced slowly. They 
first crossed the entire length of North- 
ern Middlesex, then successively the 
counties of Hereford, Bedford, North- 
ampton, Lincoln, York, Durham and 
Northumberland, without meeting with 
any incident worth relating. 

They soon attained the frontier of 
Scotland, but on arriving at Lothian, 
they learned that the King had just 
left his capital to indulge in the pleas- 
ures of the chase in the environs of 
Perth. 

Master Lancelot might have awaited 
at Edinburgh the sovereign’s return, but 
he was solicitous to perform the mission 
which he had undertaken, and to relieve 
his heart of his long endured anxiety. 
He at once directed their course towards 
Stirling, where they passed the Vorth ; 
thence they took the route to Kinross, 


44 


Flora Mac-Alpin. 


crossed the waters of the Erne, and soon 
arrived in view of Perth. 

They halted some distance from this 
ancient and picturesque city, and enjoyed 
from an eminence one of the finest pros- 
pects that the United Kingdom pre- 
sented. 

At their feet upon the banks of the 
Tay, lay the city of Perth with its towers, 
spires and the innumerable pointed roofs 
of its houses, which resembled the waves 
of a lake agitated by the wind, and in the 
midst of which appeared like two isles, 
two public squares ; one of them recalls 
the form of the Field of Mars at Rome. 
This admirable tableau, richly colored by 
a magnificent sun, justified of itself the 
name of Perth the Beautiful, which Scot- 
tish patriotism bestowed on this charming 
city. The background greatly contrib- 
uted to enhance its marvellous beauty ; it 
was formed by the chain of hills, partly 
wooded, of Moncrief and Kinnoul, and in 
the distance undulate the blue Grampian 
Hills. 

At the sight of this superb scene the 
travellers simultaneously stopped to con- 
template at leisure its marvellous beauty. 


The Treasure-Keeper. 45 

“Oh! what a magnificent country!” 
cried Flora, enchanted. “ I wish that 
charming cottage on the banks of the 
river was our home. Can anything more 
ravishing be imagined than these lovely 
abodes half hidden among the trees and 
bounded by green meadows filled with 
fine flocks ? ” 

“True, my child, and you appreciate 
such things like a sensible girl,” answered 
Griselda, much pleased. “One rich 
enough to select a residence according to 
his taste would be very wrong not to live 
in Perth. To judge from the extent of 
the forests which cover yonder mountains, 
wood must be abundant and, conse- 
quently, cheap. The river, the meadows, 
and the herds would lead me also to be- 
lieve that fish and meat must be reason- 
able.” 

Without noticing the economical con- 
siderations of the housekeeper, Lancelot 
suddenly cast his eyes on a kind of castle 
whose massive walls and battlements 
crowned a small eminence in the vicinity 
of the Tay; the gardens, arranged in 
terraces, descended to the banks of the 
river ; time had partly covered the im- 


46 


Flora Mac-Alpin. 


mense structure with heavy curtains of 
ivy. From the donjon floated the royal 
banner of Scotland. 

Master Young examined the banner 
for some moments, and recognizing the 
arms of Scotland, he joyfully exclaimed : 

“ Look, my dear Flora, yonder is the 
Convent of the Grey Friars ! We must 
go thither; for this flag informs me that 
the King is there. . . ” 

“Ah ! you knave, you have then busi- 
ness with the King ?” called an unknown 
voice behind the glazier. 

Lancelot turned and found himself in 
presence of a young cavalier in a hunting 
suit, mounted on a sorrel horse covered 
with foam, and followed by two compan- 
ions of whom he appeared to be the 
master. 

This personage was of robust and 
almost colossal frame. His countenance 
expressed audacity, and his whole appear- 
ance betrayed a man who dared do any- 
thing and shrank from nothing. It was 
difficult for Master Young to restrain 
himself from noticing the gross epithet 
which had been applied to him. However, 
he respectfully removed his velvet cap and 


The Treasure-Keeper. 47 

replied in a modest tone to the stranger’s 
question : 

“Yes, my Lord, I have come to beg 
an audience of his Majesty.” 

“You!” rejoined the cavalier, measur- 
ing the speaker from head to foot with 
his eye. “ Do you imagine that the 
King has nothing better to do than to 
give audiences to tailors and cobblers ? 
Merely by looking at you, I am ready to 
wager that you are either a cobbler or a 
tailor.” 

“You would soon lose your wager, my 
Lord,” replied Lancelot, maintaining 
the little coolness he had been able to 
preserve, “as I am neither tailor nor 
cobbler; but if I were, I am not a man 
to blush at following an honest trade. 
I am glazier to the court of her gracious 
Majesty, Queen Elizabeth, who herself, 
great and powerful as- she is, has more 
than once condescended to permit me 
the honor of an audience.” 

“We are then, English?” demanded 
the cavalier, steadily gazing at the honest 
artisan, “ From England, I should say, 
from the court of England, the wind has 
never blown aught but misfortune to 


48 


Flora Mac-Alpin. 


Scotland. Well! Master glazier to her 
gracious Majesty, Queen Elizabeth, be 
so good as to tell me what may be your 
business with the King.” 

“You will allow me to tell that to the 
King himself,” answered Young, who 
began to feel exasperated at the im- 
pertinent tone of the stranger; “ because, 
saving the respect that is your due, my 
Lord, I think no one has the right to 
question me on that subject.” 

“You are bold for a fellow of your 
stamp,” interrupted the cavalier,doubling 
his fist, as if to make the glazier prove 
the weight of his blow, and pushing his 
horse with so much violence against 
Lancelot’s that he was forced from his 
saddle. “ As to myself,” the cavalier 
continued, “ I believe that three days 
and three nights in prison upon bread 
and water, will suffice to make you 
judge if Lord Ruthven, brother of Earl 
Gowrie, possesses the right to question 
a vagabond found on his father’s 
domain.” 

“You call me a vagabond, my Lord?” 
cried the glazier, looking sternly at the 
stranger. 


The Treasure-Keeper. 49 

But without noticing Master Youngs 
words, Lord Ruthven called to his 
companions : Ho there ! seize this bold 
fellow.” 

‘‘Pardon him! pardon! my Lord.” 
begged Flora, suppliantly, extending her 
arms towards the cavalier ; “ my uncle 
has only a package of letters to place in 
the King’s hands ; that cannot be im- 
portant to any one.” 

The ferocious horseman paid no 
more attention to Flora's supplications 
than he had done to her uncle's ques- 
tion, but addressing the armed men, 
he said : 

“ Strip this rogue even to his boots, 
and open that valise and casket fastened 
behind the saddle ; he may have been 
employed by enemies to do some evil 
to the good King.” 

At Ruthven's command, his com- 
panions threw themselves on poor 
Lancelot and compelled him to dis- 
mount. They took from his girdle the 
letters, which they handed to their chief. 
He looked at them a few moments, read 
the superscription, and placed them in 
his breast: in the mean time, the men 


50 


Flora Mac-Alpin. 


unbuckled the valise and the casket from 
behind the saddle. 

“Now open that,” imperiously ordered 
the cavalier, addressing the glazier. 

“ My Lord, the contents cannot 
interest your lordship,” gasped Lan- 
celot. 

“ I wish to assure myself of the truth ; 
therefore obey my command at once 
that I may the more quickly decide,” 
replied Ruthven, becoming more and 
more impatient. 

Young could no longer resist. He 
however, may have hoped to triumph 
over the young cavalier’s persistence, or 
perhaps he anticipated some diversion 
by gaining time ; for he proceeded with 
despairing slowness in the compulsory 
work. He began with the valise ; open- 
ing it he displayed on the grass the 
linen and clothing which it contained. 

“You see, my Lord, this valise only 
contains articles of clothing as also does 
the casket.” 

“ I tell you that I will see for myself.” 

“ I grieve, my Lord, not to satisfy 
your expressed desire, because I have 
had the misfortune to lose the key,” 


The Treasure-Keeper. 51 

stammered the brave man, taking refuge 
in a falsehood, and believing that he had 
discovered a powerful reason that would 
overrule the command just given. 

But immediately contradicting himself 
by an argument which to him seemed 
unanswerable, he added : 

“ I implore you, my Lord, to leave this 
casket closed. It contains an object of 
great value which is intended for the 
King.” 

“No matter, break open the lock,” 
quietly said Lord Ruthven to his com- 
panions. 

Already one of the three men had his 
poignard in hand to force the lock, when 
Master Young, suddenly awakened to the 
danger, produced the key which he had 
concealed in his breast, and handed it 
with trembling hands to Lord Ruthven, 

The casket was opened. 

No sooner had the noble cavalier cast 
his eyes on its contents than he exclaimed 
in astonishment mingled with fear : 

“ Upon my soul, a human head ! A 
decapitated head ! What does this mean ? ” 

The poor glazier was stupefied ; he 
could not speak. But happily Griselda 


52 


Flora Mac-Alpin. 


had not lost her presence of mind, but 
retained enough for herself and her 
cousin. 

“ I beseech you, my Lord, to treat this 
head with proper respect, that you may 
not have to repent your rashness. This 
is the head of St. Dunstan, which one of 
the ancestors of his Majesty, the King of 
Scotland, presented to the Church of the 
Monastery of Sheene in Surrey. It has 
been secretly preserved by my cousin in 
the following manner. After the sup- 
pression of the Church and Convent, and 
the dispersion of the holy relics found 
there, he was commissioned to remove 
the rich stained-glass windows of the 
religious house of Sheene and to trans- 
port them to London. The object of 
our journey is to put this as a precious 
and venerable relic in the possession of 
his gracious Majesty.” 

Ruthven fixed by turns a scrutinizing 
look upon the glazier. Miss Griselda, and 
the casket. 

He was silent a few moments : “ Has 
this woman spoken the truth in what she 
has just told?” he demanded of Master 
Young. 


The Treasure-Keeper. 53 

“ My Lord,” replied Lancelot, “ I can 
before God who hears me, affirm to your 
lordship that my sole object is to 
restore this head to the King as an 
ancient and legitimate property of his 
Majesty.” 

On this affirmation, to which the tone 
and countenance of the glazier gave 
almost the character of an oath. Lord 
Ruthven said to one of the men : 

“ Take this casket, and conduct the 
man and the two women to Gowrie- 
House. Let them be suitably treated, 
but have them kept in security until I 
order them to be brought into my pres- 
ence.” 

Then addressing Young, he said in a 
much softened tone : “ The King is at this 
time hunting in Falkland Park, and it is 
scarcely possible that you could approach 
him to-day. I will tell him that you have 
a precious object to restore to him, and 
I am much deceived, if he will not decide 
to grant you an audience immediately 
after his return, and perhaps, he will even 
pass the night at Gowrie-House rather 
than at his usual residence, the convent of 
the Citeaux Monks, of which you see yon- 


54 


Flora Mac-Alpin. 


der the towers and walls. I will myself 
present you to the King.” 

Ruthven put spurs to his horse and 
galloped off with two of his companions, 
leaving the third to conduct Lancelot 
and the two women to the Manor of 
Gowrie. 

King James VI. was among sovereigns 
the most distinguished for amenity of man- 
ner. He was richly endowed both with 
heart and intellect, but his subjects ben- 
efited but little by them, as from the 
eccentricities of his character, the fine 
qualities he possessed were productive 
of little good. 

He united in himself the strangest con- 
tradictions. Learned, but pedantic, he 
delighted to converse with the ignorant 
and illiterate ; endowed with more than 
ordinary clear sightedness, he rarely acted 
according to the rules of sound prudence ; 
infatuated with his personal dignity, he 
continually compromised it by the most 
unsuitable intimacies. He prided himself 
on his diplomatic finesse, and could sup- 
port his decisions by unanswerable logic ; 
but he failed in the greater part of his 
undertakings. In many instances he fur- 


The Treasure-Keeper. 55 

nished brilliant proofs of courage, and 
yet he would shudder at the sight of a 
drawn sword. Parsimonious in small 
things, he dispensed money lavishly above 
all, when he had obtained it as a loan. 
His appearance was not less bizarre, and 
if certain personal advantages could not 
be denied to the son of Mary Stuart, he did 
not enhance them by his air, his manners, 
or his toilette. 

On the day when Master Lancelot and 
the two women were placed under guard 
at the Manor of Gowrie in the vicinity of 
Perth, the King, as Lord Ruthven said, 
was hunting in Falkland Park, an amuse- 
ment to which he had passionately aban- 
doned himself from his youth. 

Early in the morning, a magnificent 
stag had been started, and for three 
hours the huntsmen had left nothing 
undone to bring him to bay. He suc- 
ceeded in distancing the hounds after 
twice crossing the Tay, and at last seemed 
to hesitate to keep longer near the 
river. The call to the hounds had been 
three times renewed, and the animal 
evidently was exhausted. He came 
breathless and with hanging tongue to 


56 


Flora Mac-Alpin. 


the entrance of a wood, when the bark- 
ing of more than thirty dogs and the 
blast of the huntsmen’s horns fell upon 
his ear. The poor animal was on the 
point of being taken. He so well under- 
stood this, that he suddenly stopped, re- 
solved to sell his life dearly, or, at least, 
to combat his enemies with the supreme 
courage of despair. Firm upon his 
haunches, resting against the huge 
trunk of a tree, his head down, he 
awaited his assailants as if to empale 
them on his formidable antlers. 

None of the dogs, however, dared to 
assault him in front ; they confined them- 
selves to surrounding him as in line of 
battle, and had the air of waiting the 
arrival of the true corps of attack, for 
every instant the horns sounded nearer 
and nearer, announcing the rapid 
approach of the huntsmen. Soon a 
body of ardent sportsmen entered the 
space where the stag had been brought 
to bay. 

At their head rode a cavalier of 
undoubted high birth ; for the whole 
party showed him the utmost deference. 
He was of middle age and wore a 


The Treasure-Keeper. 57 

hunting suit of green velvet, quite 
shabby, and so padded as not only to 
embarrass the movements of the wearer, 
but to make him appear awkward and 
absurd. His gray felt hat, as shabby as 
his coat, was decorated with a white 
heron plume fastened with a jewelled 
agraffe in the centre of which sparkled 
a large diamond. He was mounted on a 
bay horse, whose delicate, elegant, but 
vigorous limbs betokened a choice pedi- 
gree. 

“Victory! the stag! the swift-footed 
deer, as the poets sing,” he exclaimed 
as he dismounted. “ Come, Lord May ! 
Come, Sir Walter Vere ! cut his 
haunches.” 

At this order from the personage in 
green velvet the two huntsmen were 
instantly on the ground. They glided 
with great precaution behind the stag, 
held in check by the implacable pack, 
and cut with their hunting knives all the 
hind quarters. But one of them failed 
in his stroke, and the noble animal, 
rendered furious by pain, turned against 
them, and wounded them by a thrust 
with his antlers. He would, probably. 


58 


Flora Mac-Alpin. 


have seriously injured them both, if a 
third sportsman had not promptly has- 
tened to their assistance and entirely 
paralyzed the stag by skilfully disjoint- 
ing his left shoulder; the poor creature 
fell to the ground with a lamentable cry. 
The cavalier in velvet immediately ap- 
proached, and, turning away his head 
thrust his knife to the heart. 

The horns sounded and the trumpet 
peals echoed and re-echoed through the 
depths of the forest. The huntsmen, ac- 
cording to the rules of courtesy, un- 
gloved the right hand, and respectfully 
removing their caps saluted him who 
seemed to be their chief, as though the 
honor of bringing down the stag was due 
to himself alone. 

“What a superb animal!” he cried, 
after receiving with royal gravity this 
almost derisive salute. “ Here ! De 
Vere, now open his breast and see if he 
is fat. But be careful, I pray you. Do 
not so madly flourish your cutlass before 
my eyes,” he added in an ill-humored 
tone, and recoiling two or three steps, 
although the young man whom he 
addressed was several paces distant and 


The Treasure-Keeper. 59 

had simply drawn the knife with un- 
usual swiftness from its scabbard. 

“ Will your Royal Majesty deign to 
pardon me?” stammered De Vere, in 
trepidation. 

But the King, for the cavalier in green 
velvet was James VI. himself, interrupted 
him, saying, with familiarity: 

“Well, well, be reassured. Sir Walter 
the Hairbrained. We know that you are 
one of our most faithful subjects, and we 
are satisfied that you profess for us loyal 
sentiments. The past, however, teaches 
us by more than one marked example, 
that crafty men have often concealed 
execrable designs under the most deceit- 
ful appearances. Latin historians tell 
us that Caesar was put to death by 
those most indebted to him for bene- 
fits.” 

“ Could your Majesty seriously believe 
me capable? . . . exclaimed De Vere, 
startled by the King’s words. 

“Assuredly not; I do not suspect you 
of any evil intention,” James interrupted 
affectionately. “ Remember what an 
ancient philosopher has said : ‘ Who- 

ever you may be and whatever you may 


6o 


Flora Mac-Alpin. 


do, never act without reflection,’ But 
what is the matter, my Lord, your hand 
is bleeding. Has the stag wounded you ? 
“ My God ! I am sorry, the more so as 
I ordered you to cut the animal’s haunch. 
But, as far as possible, we will try to 
repair the injury and make you just com- 
pensation — a handsome present — that is, 
when we have money ; just now we are as 
poor as Job.” 

“ If your Majesty condescends to listen 
to me I would say that I am sufificiently 
recompensed by the gracious intentions 
expressed towards me,” De Vere replied, 
eager to profit by the good humor of his 
friendly sovereign. “As to myself. Sire, 
I am in want of nothing. But there is 
my poor cousin, Archibald Gordon, who 
has a long time solicited the command of 
Stirling Castle ! then, there is honest 
James Gordon of Invernail who has had 
for fifteen years, the charge of collecting 
the revenues of the Monastery of Freres 
Noirs at Glasgow, and he is now to be 
removed ; then, there is William Gordon 
who . . .” 

“ And probably a hundred other Gor- 
dons who have need of money,” again 


The Treasure-Keeper. 6i 

interrupted James, frightened at the litany 
which DeVere was reciting. “ We can- 
not express a desire to gratify our trusty 
barons, but we are presented with a list 
of needy relatives, a genealogical chart 
as full as holy King David’s of glorious 
memory. By my faith, all ask alike. 
Something is solicited; this one wants 
a large benefice, the other a lucrative 
employment. My dear barons must learn 
to moderate their desires : that is true wis- 
dom and true riches as ancient philosophy 
teaches us. . . But who is coming ?” he 
inquired, suddenly changing the subject. 
“Ah ! it is Lord Ruthven himself ; well 
my Lord, you are late. Had you been 
here a little sooner, you would have aided 
us in hunting the finest stag, perhaps, that 
ever browsed in Falkland Park.” 

Whilst the King addressed him, the 
newcomer, in whom we recognize the 
cavalier who arrested Lancelot Young 
and his companions, hastened to dis- 
mount. He uncovered, and with his 
large gray felt in hand, saluted the king 
with profound respect, though scarcely 
repressing a fierce and disdainful smile 
which appeared to be habitual to his lips. 


62 Flora Mac-Alpin. 

“ Sire,” he answered, “ if my evil star 
prevented me from assisting your Maj- 
esty in the capture of the stag, at 
least, I have had the good fortune 
to make a capture which will not 
be of less value to your sovereign 
grace,” 

“ By my faith, I hardly think that 
probable,” replied the King slightly 
frowning. “You have, perhaps taken a 
couple of poor devils such as we daily 
meet in this country, vagabonds, whom 
your brother, Baron Gowrie, will hang 
as a spectacle to celebrate our presence 
in Perth.” 

“ Sire, that is not exactly the present 
affair,” answered the cavalier smiling, 
“ although if the case be urgent, my 
brother is not the man to embarrass 
himself with a long trial.” 

“ That being so, my Lord,” said the 
King, evidently pleased, “ tell me what 
captives you hold, and, in what manner 
they are important to us. Whoever they 
may be, before giving me particulars 
would it not be well for our lords and 
their retinue to retire; as far as regards 
myself, I am content with a small 


The Treasure-Keeper, 63 

audience, as said the philospher, of whom 
I will speak presently.” 

“The circumstances are as follows, 
Sire,” replied Ruthven. “ Passing behind 
the Beglie osiers I met with a very sus- 
picious person; I questioned him as to 
who he was, and whence he came ; he 
stammered and equivocated. I ordered 
my men to search him; we discovered 
that he was bearer of a package of pa- 
pers, and a casket which he said con- 
tained an object of great value to your 
Majesty.” 

“An object of great value that be- 
longs to me !” exclaimed James, joyfully. 
“ The robber probably forced the door 
of my treasury ; but it would be difficult 
to comprehend how he found an object 
of great value there, as for a long time it 
has not contained enough to ornament 
or silver over our sword belt. However, 
I hope that you instantly secured the 
rascal, lest he disappear with what he 
may have stolen.” 

“Yes, Sire,” said Lord Ruthven, “I 
had him arrested and conducted under 
guard to Gowrie-House.” 

“You did well,” answered the King, 


64 


Flora Mac-Alpin. 


approvingly. “ If the thief is really the 
bearer of a treasure which belongs to us, 
or precious stones, we will that you have 
a good share as recompense due your 
activity and your prudence. ...” 

Here James stopped abruptly as if he 
felt that he had gone too far in making 
such a promise. Immediately recalling 
his words, he said : “ But, no, my Lord, 
we will do better and designate your 
recompense at once. Here take this 
stag, I give him to you, he belongs to 
you, you can have him removed.” 

At this speech, Ruthven and the 
King’s companions bit their lips to 
prevent their laughter at the strange 
subterfuge to which James had had 
recourse, in order to withdraw from 
the engagement he had himself taken to 
bestow on the nobleman a portion of the 
anticipated treasure. The latter con- 
trolled himself and preserved a serious 
countenance in the comical situation in 
which he was placed. 

“ Sire,” he said, with perfect courtesy 
and an imperturbable gravity, “ I really 
do not know how to thank your Majesty 
for the grace that you have just granted 


The Treasure-Keeper. 65 

me. I this instant remember that I 
neglected to inform my brother of my 
motive in arresting the man, and for fear 
that he may be deceived by the stranger 
and imprudently restore him to liberty, 
permit me to humbly pray your Majesty 
to stop, in passing, at Gowrie-House to 
interrogate the prisoner yourself and to 
take possession of the treasure.^' 

'‘To take possession of the treasure; 
you are right, let us hasten,'’ replied the 
King, visibly gratified. "Truly, my 
Lord, you are a sensible man, and one 
who understands business ; for our treas- 
ure finder could very well arrange some 
story for his own benefit and make his 
escape. On the other hand, your 
brother, whom we hold in great esteem 
and to whom we do not design to make 
any reproach, might take a fancy to lay 
claim to our treasure, as lord of the do- 
main where the man was arrested ; and I 
know it would not be an easy matter to 
make him listen to reason ; the poet 
Virgil might be supposed to point to 
him in the verse : 

' He has a powerful brain, but a hard 
head. Moreover he is prompt to anger^ 


66 Flora Mac- A Ipin. 

when he is not granted what he desires, 
and unfortunately he desires much.’” 

“ I will not allow myself to contradict 
your Majesty,” returned Ruthven, with a 
bitter smile. “ I even acknowledge there 
is something in the blood of the Gowries 
which forces them obdurately to maintain 
their rights. However, as regards the 
treasure, of which there is question, I 
can assure your Majesty that my 
brother will not be a claimant for it, 
and even if he had the positive right, he 
would not dream of advancing it, so 
happy would he be to receive under his 
roof our most gracious Sovereign.” 

“ That is a good and loyal thought, 
my Lord,” returned the King, with almost 
an affectionate manner. “We hope that 
your brother is animated by the same 
sentiments, although we have many 
reasons to doubt it as from various 
sources certain reports reach us which 
are far from reassuring as to the dis- 
positions of Earl Gowrie.” 

“ Calumnies, Sire, miserable cal- 
umnies!” exclaimed Ruthven, regardless 
of the terijis of respect that he owed to 
the royal personage. “ The same men 


The Treasure-Keeper. 67 

who contributed to bring the father to 
the scaffold, would now see the son’s 
blood flow ; they are grossly deceived in 
their calculations. . . 

My' Lord, my Lord, why recall this 
lamentable history ? ” interrupted the 
King, sadly bending his head, and trying 
to calm the speaker. We were infants 
when the deplorable event took place of 
which you awaken the remembrance. 
Was it in our power to prevent it? Al- 
though no one could say that your 
father fell a victim to injustice, nor that 
he did not deserve his fate. To restore 
him to life and to you I would give the 
richest of my domains. For the rest, you 
are not ignorant that we have neglected 
nothing to prove our friendly feelings 
towards you, and you and your brother 
have always been to us objects of special 
attentions. The Earl of Mar, Sir Walter 
Vere, and Sir Hugh Herries can testify 
to the truth of my words. They can 
attest how often I have deplored the sad 
end of your father. They know how 
constantly I have rejected the demands 
made me for the investiture of Gowrie’s 
estate. There would be ingratitude in 


68 


Flora Mac-ALpin. 


cherishing animosity towards us or 
towards any one as innocent as ourselves 
of the misfortunes that you have suf- 
fered.” 

“ God forbid, Sire, that I should 
harbor the least resentment against your 
Majesty,” answered Ruthven, in great 
agitation, his eyes cast on the ground. 
“ But the remembrance of the day when 
the father’s head fell under the sword of 
the law, is not so readily effaced from 
the son’s memory.” 

The veins of the baron’s brow were 
strangely swollen, his breast violently 
heaved from the emotion he strove in 
vain to repress ; he sobbed rather than 
pronounced the words. There came to 
James one of those moments of grandeur 
which so rarely occurred in his life. A 
sovereign majesty beamed in his eye, 
his countenance was radiant with an ex- 
pression of nobility and dignity; he said: 

“ My Lord de Ruthven, I was a 
child of sixteen years, I loved your 
father ; I was his sovereign ; he and his 
accomplice traitorously possessed them- 
selves of my pardon to imprison me and 
treat me with savage cruelty. On one 


The Treasure-Keeper. 


occasion, Lord Lindsay, seeing me trem- 
ble with anxiety and weeping hot tears, 
shook me violently and said : ‘ Weep, 
better to weep when a child, than when 
an old man.’ Well, my Lord, I have for- 
gotten the speech and the bad treat- 
ment. Follow my example and learn to 
forget in return.” 

When the King finished, Ruthven 
seemed deeply affected. Without a 
word, he vaulted in his saddle and 
waited to accompany the Sovereign and 
his suite to Perth. 


CHAPTER III. 


THE ROOM WITH THE IRON DOOR. 

Towards noon of the day after the oc- 
currence of the events above narrated, 
a young man in hunting suit, wearing 
a cap of green velvet surmounted by a 
heron’s plume, passed on horseback 
under the high-arched gateway of Gow- 
rie-House. He had numbered scarcely 
twenty years ; the delicacy of his feat- 
ures, and the elegance of his person re- 
vealed his noble origin, his physiognomy 
indicated confidence and resolution. 
On each shoulder hung a scarf, or rather 
a false sleeve embroidered with the royal 
arms of Scotland. He halted before a 
lodge ; the keeper of the castle instantly 
appeared ; the youth dismounted, and 
throwing him the reins, enquired : 

“ Where is Earl Gowrie?” 

“ His lordship is at the castle. Sir 
Page,” the keeper answered. 


The Room with the Iron Door. 71 

“ Conduct me to his presence.” 

At this moment the young cavalier 
glanced into the lodge, and astonish- 
ment prevented him from proceeding 
farther. 

“ Can it be possible,” he exclaimed, 
“ that I see my excellent London host. 
Master Lancelot Young, and you, Miss 
Griselda, who so carefully nursed me 
when I was ill ? Can it be. Miss Flora 
Mac-Alpine also ? But pardon me ; in the 
pleasure of meeting you I forget that 
the King will be here in a few moments 
and I must now leave you. I will, how- 
ever, return ere long.” 

The page immediately rejoined the 
keeper, who having passed the horse to a 
servant, had already crossed the large 
court, and together they entered the 
vestibule. 

“Notice how grand and fine Sir John 
Ramsey has become ; ” cried Miss Gri- 
selda, watching him dash across the court, 
“ he is as gay and lively as he was in Lon- 
don, when he was recovering from the 
long illness he so skilfully feigned in 
order to remain longer at our house. 
Come, come, my little Flora, do not be 


72 ' 


Flora Mac-Alpin. 


so agitated. There is no sin in affirming 
that Sir John Ramsey is a noble, and 
charming cavalier.” 

On hearing this remark of Miss 
Grimm’s poor Flora could not conceal 
her discomposure. Fortunately for her, 
Miss Griselda’s and Lancelot’s attention 
was attracted to the court-yard, where 
they noticed the royal page with tw'o 
cavaliers turning towards the grand 
entrance of the manor. The first of 
these personages was the Earl of Gow- 
rie. He singularly resembled his brother 
Lord Ruthven in his colossal stature, 
and his expression of audacity and 
fierceness. His physiognomy was sterner 
and more ferocious. The other cavalier 
was tall and thin, and wore a cuirass 
of polished iron. The character of his 
face was a mixture of cunning and of 
cruelty, and his small, restless, gray 
eyes were deep-set in his head. At a 
sign from the earl, a retainer hastened 
to bring forward two horses ; the 
conversation Lord Gowrie held with 
his companion explained their destina- 
tion. 

“ Sir,” said the earl in a quiet tone to 


The Room with the Iron Door. 73 

the page ; “ you can await, your master 
at the castle gate.” 

In reply, John Ramsey re.spectfully sa- 
luted him, and rapidly walked to the 
lodge ; happy to be able to join Lancelot 
and his party. 

As soon as the page was* out of hear- 
ing, Lord Gowrie said suddenly in a 
low tone to his companion : “ I can cer- 
tainly depend on you?” 

“ My Lord, Robert Logom de Res- 
tolrig was never counted on in vain 
when he was needed to deal a sure 
blow,” responded the man steadily look- 
ing at the earl. 

“ And you are very positive that he 
will not escape you ? ” 

“ Ask the sea eagle if he lets the sea- 
mew escape,” returned Robert with a 
ferocious smile. “ When the portcullis 
of the donjon of Fast-castle will be low- 
ered behind him, no human power can 
drag him from my hands. In all Ber- 
wickshire there cannot be found a manor 
as impregnable as that ; God alone or a 
thunderbolt can enter there,” 

“Very well, but understand that noth.- 
ing in human power will be neglected to 


74 


Flora Mac-Alpin. 


discover where he is imprisoned,” ob- 
jected Earl Gowrie, nervously twisting 
with one hand a heavy collar of gold 
that reached to his girdle. 

“What does that signify to me?” 
cried Logom^ laughing ferociously. They 
may discover where I place him, but to 
seek him there will be quite another 
thing. You are not ignorant, my Lord, 
that it was I who gave an asylum to 
Bothwell, when he had no place of con- 
cealment. Both King and council knew 
that he was under my protection, but 
none dared demand of me my guest. Be 
assured that he will never be torn from 
me either living or dead. Recall, my 
Lord, the penalty he made your father 
suffer, and learn from it to act with 
courage and resolution.” 

The earl grasped the chevalier’s hand 
and pressing it convulsively murmured : 

“ Go, Sir Robert Logom, return 
quietly to Fast-castle and prepare to re- 
ceive there my guest of to-day.” 

Without replying, the owner of Res- 
talrig pressed Gowrie’s hand, mounted 
one of the two horses and signed 
his servant to take the other, and 


The Room with the Iron Door. 75 

both rode rapidly through the gate- 
way. 

“ What ! is he one of the intimate com- 
panions of Gowrie-House?” Lancelot 
Young enquired of John Ramsey, as 
Robert Logom de Restalrig passed be- 
fore the lodge. “ I have often seen him 
at the palace in London. He is consid- 
ered there a wicked, vindictive, unprin- 
cipled man. It is even said that he was 
actively engaged in the plot against the 
unfortunate Mary Stuart, when she was 
caught in the snare from which she never 
escaped alive. Can it be that so great a 
lord as the Earl of Gowrie receives at his 
manor such a man ? ” 

“Does that astonish you, my friend?” 
enquired the page, smiling. “ Have you 
never seen a raven flying in company 
with a noble falcon ? The latter seizes 
the prey, and the former is content with 
the remnants.” 

“ If such be the case,” returned Lan- 
celot bowing, “ the King commits a 
great imprudence in confiding his sacred 
person to the loyalty of the earl and 
visiting him in his castle. The Scottish 
nobility are regarded as unscrupulous 


76 


Flora Mac-Alpin. 


where treason is concerned, and they 
have frequently given proofs of. . . ” 

“Pardon, Master Young,” the page 
eagerly interrupted, fixing on the speaker 
an eye brilliant with manly courage. 
“You forget that this same nobility 
have also proved themselves in a hun- 
dred battles, ready to make the sacrifice 
of their life and fortune for the Sov- 
ereign’s welfare. It is true that his 
Majesty comes with but six or eight 
gentlemen in his suite. But the Earl 
of Gowrie risks the thrust of a High- 
lander’s trusty steel in his throat if he 
dare raise a finger against the King, 
his guest.” 

These words of John Ramsey made 
no impression on Lancelot ; he evidently 
was incredulous on this subject, and re- 
mained silent only from courtesy. But 
drawing his young friend aside, he said : 

“ Allow me, my dear Sir, to refer to 
my own affairs by begging you to use all 
your influence with the gentlemen who 
accompany the King to obtain for me a 
private audience. I have for him a cas- 
ket which contains an object of great 
value and moreover, a package of papers 


The Room with the Iron Door. 77 

which was entrusted to me by a relative 
of the King’s at the time when banished 
from the Kingdom by Francis Stuart, 
earl of Bothwell, he sought an asylum in 
France; you will not confound him with 
James Hexbam, who bore the same 
name under Queen Mary. I became ac- 
quainted with him in my youth, under 
circumstances unnecessary to relate. 
He placed a confidence in me, which, 
thank God, I have never betrayed ; and 
when, a fugitive, he passed through Lon- 
don, he gave me these papers, directing 
me, when certain of his death, to open a 
particular letter. He is dead, I have 
opened the letter ; it orders me to conduct 
to the King of Scotland Flora Mac-Alpin, 
whom in her infancy Earl Bothwell left 
with me, and whom I have always passed 
off as my niece, in order to protect her 
from the search of her father’s enemies.” 

“What do you say?” exclaimed Ram- 
sey in astonishment, his face covered 
with a bright blush, “ Flora is not your 
relative ? ” 

“ Certainly not,” answered the glazier. 
“ I am sure that she is the daughter 
of Earl Bothwell. At least, I have 


78 Flora Mac-Alpin. 

gathered a chain of evidence, every link 
of which gives me this assurance.” 

“Ah ! my God ! should this be true !” 
murniured the page to himself with in- 
describable joy. 

But instantly recollecting himself he 
enquired : 

“ Does Flora know what you suppose 
to be her parentage ? ” 

“ She has not the least idea. The 
evening before our departure from Lon- 
don, I made known to her that she was 
not my niece. But look at those cav- 
aliers who are approaching.” 

“It is the King!” said the page, and 
he immediately sent a servant to an- 
nounce his arrival to the earl. 

The King and his suite shortly after- 
wards entered the court of the Manor. 
He was in good humor; this, probably, 
arose rather from the hope of possessing 
the treasure which he expected than 
from the success of the chase in Falk- 
land park. The Earl of Gowrie, with a 
large retinue, received him at the foot of 
the grand entrance, and Sir William de 
Vere advanced to hold the Sovereign’s 
stirrup as he dismounted. 


The Room with the Iron Door, 79 

Here we are, ''cried the King, with 
his peculiar gayety of manner. I sa- 
lute you, Earl Gowrie. ..." Take 
care, Sir William, that you do not assist 
us to dismount as awkwardly as you did 
the other day, when we both fell to the 
ground, and I named you, in remem- 
brance of it, our great “ hair-brained, 
. . . But I am now happily safe on 
the pavement. Lord Ruthven, bring to 
us the treasure-man of whom you spoke, 
unless you have held out to us a 
vain hope." 

‘‘Your Majesty knows that my unfort- 
unate father said on a certain occasion : 
“ A Ruthven keeps his words should it 
cost him the last drop of blood,'" replied 
the lord with a peculiar smile. 

“ There ! my dear Ruthven, do not ak 
ways recall me these sad memories," the 
King answered with some ill-humor. “ I 
do not, in the least doubt that yourself 
and brother will, under all circumstances 
be faithful to your word." 

“ Of that, your Majesty, may be as- 
sured," added Earl Gowrie coldly. “ First 
however, allow me to pray you to enter 
our humble abode and condescend to 


8o 


Flora Mac-Alpin. 


accept some refreshments. My brother, 
in the interval, will bring the man 
who has the treasure.” 

“ Very well, my dear Lord, we willingly 
accept your gracious offer,” replied the 
King ; as the earl introduced him into 
the great banquet hall of the Manor. 
“ My Lords,” he continued, “ have, I am 
sure a good appetite ; for my part, I am 
disposed to do honor to your repasts, 
provided that your noble brother will 
abstain from incessantly serving to us 
unpalatable dishes.” 

James took his place at table, and, 
with a jovial air, mingled in his conversa- 
tion many familiar and undignified jests 
apropos to his awkward follower, De 
Vere. His good humor was observable, 
and nothing in his conversation, his 
countenance, or his expressions, showed 
that he preserved a shadow of ill- 
feeling against the sons for the savage 
and brutal treatment of their father. 
On the contrary, he voluntarily ac- 
corded several favors to Ruthven whose 
air was more conciliatory than Earl 
Gowrie’s and, even invited him to 
court. 


The Room with the Iron Door. 8i 

These marks of kindness visibly af- 
fected the lord ; he changed color, hes- 
itated for words to acknowledge the royal 
condescension, and looked unhappy; a re- 
markable contrast to his habitually fierce 
and scornful expression. 

On the other hand, Earl Gowrie pre- 
served an icy coldness. When in a 
moment, the sovereign expressed his 
gratification to hear the citizens of Perth 
congratulate themselves on the earl’s 
paternal administration, he acknowledged 
the compliment by merely bowing cour- 
teously. 

The repast was soon over, and the 
King rose from the table. 

“ Enough, my dear Lord, ’’said James, 
familiarly taking the host’s hand. “ All 
excess is injurious. To drink, eat, hunt, 
collect treasure, perhaps this may be too 
much for one day.” 

As the King rose Lord Ruthven left 
the banquet-hall. He soon returned, but 
his face was ghastly pale, and his eyes 
had a wandering look. 

“ If it please your Majesty,” he said, 
hesitatingly ; “ I will conduct you to the 
man of whom I had the honor to tell 


82 


Flora Mac-Alpin, 


you, and who petitions for a speedy and 
a secret audience.” 

“ Really, a remarkable fellow ! ” ex- 
claimed James. “We will grant his re- 
quest ; he brings us a treasure, that will 
compensate for his unusual course. It is 
wonderful to see a man despoil himself 
of his treasure-trove in our favor. Pro- 
ceed, my Lord, let us see what he 
brings.” 

Scarcely had the King and Lord 
Ruthven left the hall when Earl Gowrie 
said to the lords of the royal suite : 

“Would it be agreeable to you, my 
Lords, to see some war-horses which I 
have lately received from France ? I 
doubt not, that true Scottish cavaliers as 
you are, you will find as much pleasure 
in examining them as his Majesty will 
take in the unexpected treasure.” 

Ruthven had conducted the King 
across several large halls and mounted 
several stories when they entered a 
long corridor. 

“ It appears, my Lord,” said James, 
smiling, “ that you desire me to practice 
the sage advice of the Salernian school : . 

“ After each repast take a good sleep * 


The Room with the Iron Door. 83 

or a long walk, otherwise it would be 
difficult to comprehend your motive in 
enclosing our extraordinary treasure in 
this distant part of the castle,” 

“ Sire,” returned Ruthven,“ I consid- 
ered it necessary to seclude him from all 
communication until your Majesty had 
questioned him. But our walk is ended. 
The small door before us leads to the 
tower where I have safely imprisoned 
the man.” 

He drew from his girdle a huge key, 
unlocked, threw open the door, and in- 
vited the King to enter the circular 
chamber. 

Imagine James’ terror on hearing the 
massive door suddenly shut behind him 
with a loud noise ; and on finding him- 
self in the presence of a man in armor, 
the visor down and a drawn sword in his 
hand. 

Whilst this scene was being enacted 
in the tower, Earl Gowrie was expatia- 
ting in the stables, whither the King’s 
suite had accompanied him on the ex- 
cellent points and fine qualities of the 
horses which he had recently purchased. 
John Ramsey had walked unobserved 


84 


Flora Mac-Alpin, 


into the castle garden, quietly to indulge 
in a promenade and to recruit from the 
fatigues of the day in the midst of the 
perfume of flowers and the joyful chant 
of the birds. 

At this time there occurred an un- 
usual movement in the court of the 
castle, and the retainers were calling in 
loud tones : 

“ His Majesty is about to depart ! 
Bring forth the horses of the lords of 
the King’s suite ! ” 

On hearing these cries John Ramsey 
rushed to the garden gate, whilst the 
royal suite tumultuously left the stables. 

“ Pardon me, gentlemen,” said Gowrie 
who had not for an instant left them, 
“ pardon me, if I have detained you here.” 

Addressing his domestics, he added : 

“ Quick ! Bring the horses of these 
lords from the stables, or must I help 
you myself to perform your duty ? ” 

Again turning to the King’s followers, 

“ I should be much distressed, my 
Lords, if you cast any blame upon me.” 

This scene had passed not far from 
the lodge, and Lancelot and the porter 
ran to the door at the first noise. 


The Room with the Iron Door, 85 

Noticing the eagerness of the person- 
ages of the King’s suite to depart, Lan- 
celot said to them : 

“ My Lords, this is undoubtedly a mis- 
take ; I have not moved from this spot 
and I would most certainly have seen 
the King pass if he had left the castle.” 

“What does this dog say?” exclaimed 
Gowrie, transported with rage. “ He 
does not know the King, and he as- 
suredly has some evil design in giving me 
lie. Holla ! porter,” he continued, “did 
you not see the King just leave ? ” 

“ My faith ! my Lord,” the keeper an- 
swered, twisting his drab cap between his 
hands, “ I have not taken my eye off 
the door, and I have not seen his Maj- 
esty go out. But if his lordship asserts 
that the King has left the castle, it must 
be true, although I have in my pocket 
the key of the postern if it is by that gate 
the King went.” 

“You lie ! You audaciously lie ! ” cried 
the earl, dashing his clenched fist towards 
the speaker. “ The King went through 
the great gate. I saw him myself go 
out.” 

“ The lords looked at each other in 


86 


Flora Mac-Alpin. 


astonishment and as if irresolute what 
course to take ; but at that moment John 
Ramsey accidentally cast his eyes towards 
a large, round tower which formed 
one of the angles of the manor ; he had 
remarked, when in the garden, a small 
open door at the foot of the tower, and 
at some distance below the roof, a nar- 
row, grated window. 

“Look! look!” called the page, ex- 
tending his hand towards the window ; 
he had not voice to say more. 

At his cry of horror, the lords turned 
to the spot which he indicated ; and 
what a frightful spectacle met their gaze ! 

They perceived the King at the win- 
dow, grappling the iron bars with both 
hands, and apparently exhausting him- 
self in futile efforts to break them ; he 
was powerless to utter a word ; for 
behind him stood a man in complete ar- 
mor, with closed visor, who pressed the 
King’s throat with his iron gauntleted 
hands, and seemed endeavoring either 
to strangle him, or to drag him into the 
interior of the tower. 

There was a moment when James, 
half disengaging himself from this fu* 


The Room with the Iron Door. 87 

rious grasp, was able to call in a stifled 
voice : 

“ Help ! help ! My lords of Mar ! Ers- 
kine ! De Vere ! ” 

“ Treason ! treason ! ” on the instant 
exclaimed the Earl of Mar, drawing his 
sword. “Follow me, lords and cava- 
liers ! ” 

Swift as a flash the gentlemen of the 
King’s suite, arms in hand, had pene- 
trated into the interior of the castle. 
John Ramsey’s first movement was to 
throw himself on Earl Gowrie, but he 
seized, instead, a domestic, and holding a 
dagger to his throat, called out : 

“Answer me, or you are a dead man. 
Where does that small door lead .? ” 

“To the upper part of the tower,” re- 
plied the trembling man. 

“ Then go before me and show me the 
way,” said the page resolutely ; and push- 
ing the intimidated man in advance he 
entered the embrasure. 

That the reader may understand the 
inexplicable tumult which reigned at this 
time, we must recur to preceding events. 

The round room of the tower into 
which Ruthven introduced the King had 


88 


Flora Mac-Alpin. 


two entrances, opposite each other ; one 
placed at the extremity of the gallery 
through which they had passed, the other 
opening upon a circular stair-way, which, 
contrived in the wall of the castle, com- 
municated with the door where the young 
page entered. 

When James discovered that he was 
alone with an armed man who held to- 
wards him a drawn sword, he recoiled 
several steps, but he was not long in re- 
covering his sang-froid. By one of those 
contradictions of which human nature 
offers frequent examples, this same prince 
who could not, without trembling, support 
the sight of a naked sword, was very far 
from being a coward, and he had proved 
this by his acts on many occasions. The 
danger menacing him, nerved him to en- 
ergetic actions. Moreover, his adversary 
appeared devoid of courage ; he trembled 
from head to foot. 

“ What do you want with me ? ” de- 
manded James in a firm voice, recovering 
from the embarrassment into which he 
had been thrown by the unexpected ap- 
parition of the man. 

The stranger was silent and stood mo- 


The Room with the Iron Door. 89 

tionless, leaning against a door opposite 
the one which the king had entered. 

“Can it be that you are a cut-throat 
paid to assassinate your sovereign ?” con- 
tinued the king. “ In that case you play 
a losing game.” 

The man was still silent, and trembled 
violently. 

“ If you are not an assassin,” continued 
James, interpreting favorably the emo- 
tion he observed in this mysterious per- 
son, “you are then certainly some poor 
devil chosen by your masters to perform 
a villanous deed they dare not themselves 
undertake. It may be at heart that you 
are not made to play such a part. 
Therefore, let me leave and I will recom- 
pense you royally.” 

The king as he was speaking advanced 
to the door where the man stood, but still 
remaining silent he instantly pointed his 
sword to the king. 

“ What does this mean ? ” exclaimed 
James. “ Can Lord Ruthven be mocking 
us by placing us face to face with a dog 
who can neither bark nor bite ? Or, 
would he retain us prisoner? Open this 
moment the bars of the window. Open, 


90 


Flora Mac-Alpin. 


I say, unless you wish to feel the effect 
of my anger.” 

The unknown, at this imperious com- 
mand of the monarch, opened the win- 
dow. 

Lord Ruthven entered at that moment, 
and observed the open window. 

“ By the arms of Gowrie ! what have 
you done ? ” he demanded of the mute 
man. 

Drawing his sword he held the point 
to the king’s breast. 

“ Remember,” he said to his sovereign, 
in a voice choked with rage, “ that my 
father was executed by your order. Re- 
member that your life is in my hands and 
follow me.” 

“What are you saying?” returned 
James with dignity. “Your father died 
because he was guilty. Your father was 
condemned by the laws. Beware that 
you do not meet the same fate.”. . . 

“ I order you to follow me,” harshly in- 
terrupted Ruthven. “ Time is passing 
and I have but little patience.” 

“ Where, traitor, would you conduct 
me?” demanded the monarch. “From 
this place I will not move a step.” 


The Room with the Iron, Door. 91 

Suddenly softening his tone, he con- 
tinued: 

“Alexander Ruthven, reflect on what 
you are doing.” 

“You refuse to follow me? Then I 
must use force,” cried the earl in a brutal 
manner. 

Unfastening his belt he seized the 
King’s hands to bind them, which consid- 
ering his remarkable strength he could 
have readily accomplished, but James 
rushed to the window and called for 
help. Furious at his failure, Ruthven 
grasped his prisoner by the throat. The 
King would have, undoubtedly, been 
overcome in the struggle had not his 
cries been heard by the lords, who 
were, in a short time, forcing the 
door. 

“Well! if you force me to it we will 
perish together,” roared Ruthven raging 
with anger. 

Snatching the dagger from the belt of 
the armed man, he was about to rush 
upon the king, when the door, by which 
his companion still stood motionless as a 
statue, was thrown open, and John Ram- 
sey appeared ; the young man sprang like 


92 


Flora Mac-Alpin. 


a tiger upon Ruthven, crying, as he 
struck with his claymore : 

“ Die, scoundrel, die the traitor’s 
death ! ” 

Being thus attacked, Ruthven, un- 
shaken by the blow, turned fiercely. 

“Strike harder, Ramsey,” cried James, 
“strike harder, he wears a leathern 
jacket.” 

The page was retiring several paces 
to take better aim, when Sir Hugh Mer- 
ries and Tom Erskine presented them- 
selves at the door which had admitted 
Ramsey. Startled by the sudden noise 
of footsteps, Ruthven turned quickly and 
instantly received a blow across the loins 
from the page. He dropped on the floor 
as a tree felled by the woodman’s axe, 
and expired, gasping out, 

“ I have at least tried to avenge my 
father.” 

Whilst this scene was being enacted 
in the tower, Earl Mar and Sir William 
De Vere were endeavoring to force 
the opposite door. They finally suc- 
ceeded, and joined their Sovereign. 
“ What a horror you witness, my lords ! ” 
James said with deep emotion, pointing 


The Room with the Iron Door. 93 

to Ruthven’s inanimate body. This 
wretch brought me here in order to ob- 
tain possession of my person, and perhaps 
to take my life. But he has himself 
fallen a victim to his own snare. I would 
willingly give my right hand that this 
had not occurred; the traitor merits my 
pity rather than my anger.” 

“Sire, your Majesty may reserve your 
pity,” cried Hugh Herries, touching with 
his foot Ruthven’s corpse. “ The body 
of this traitor should be fastened to the 
tail of a horse and dragged three days 
through the streets of Perth.” 

“ Ah ! Sir Hugh,” replied the King, 
shaking his head, “ you have but little 
Christian charity; you forget that his 
father perished by the sword of jus- 
tice.” . . . “ You shall answer for the life 
of both with your head,” cried Earl Cow- 
rie who, sword in hand, appeared on the 
threshold of the door accompanied by 
seven armed men. He was as pale as a 
spectre and foaming with rage. A terri- 
ble struggle ensued. 

There were eight assailants and the 
King had around him only the five gen- 
tlemen of his suite. Their great aim 


94 


Flora Mac-Alpin. 


was to protect their Sovereign’s person ; 
and with this view they strove to shield 
him with their bodies, forming as it were 
a living buckler by instinctively pressing 
close together. Having with some 
difficulty executed this manoeuvre, their 
efforts were directed to paralyze the 
forces of Earl Gowrie by confining them 
to the narrow space contained between 
the walls of the corridor, and thus depriv- 
ing them of the means of making an ad- 
vantageous attack. At last they suc- 
ceeded in forcing their assailants back 
into the passage, when Earl Mar immedi- 
ately closed the door behind him leaving 
the King unhurt with Erskine and De 
Vere. The struggle became more and 
more terrible. Gowrie sustained almost 
single-handed the attack of the lords ; he 
felt that for him life or death hung in the 
balance. His companions on the con- 
trary became disheartened, and made but 
feeble efforts to maintain their ground, 
foreseeing that in whatever manner the 
contest might terminate the consequences 
would be equally disastrous to them. 
The issue remained a long time unde- 
cided, when Ramsey, determining either 


The Room with the l 7 '‘ 07 i Door, 95 

to slay his adversary or lay down his own 
life for his Sovereign, rushed upon Cow- 
rie. Having first harassed him by fre- 
quent blows dealt with marvellous agility, 
he threw away his claymore, fell fiercely 
upon his opponent, seized him by the 
throat, and plunged his dagger to the 
hilt in the loins which were not protected 
by the cuirass. The earl dropped as 
though struck by lightning. Ramseys 
steel had reached his heart. 

On seeing their chief fall. Cowrie's 
companions lost courage, and with a cry 
of terror fled precipitately through the 
corridor. 

The King's gentlemen supposed that 
he had, during the combat, descended 
the stairway of the tower to seek safety 
within the walls of Perth; but on opening 
the door they found him standing, with 
joined hands, near Ruthven's corpse, 
praying for the soul of the dead. 

Cod is my witness," he said on hear- 
ing that Cowrie had been slain, '' that I 
am innocent of the blood which has been 
shed. Could I recall the dead to life, 
how joyfully I would pardon them !" 

Sire, they have received the chastise- 


96 


Flora Mac-Alpin. 


merit they merited,” replied Mar, placing 
his sword in its scabbard. 

“That your Majesty may no longer 
think of what has just happened, except 
to recompense the young hero to whom 
we owe the victory,” added Hugh Her- 
ries, “I will tell you that it was John 
Ramsey’s bravery which enabled us to 
end the strife so quickly.” 

Earl Mar and his companions then 
narrated in detail to the King the com- 
bat of the young page with Gowrie, ex- 
tolling his heroism on this occasion. 

“John Ramsey, or. Sir John Ramsey, 
as we will that you shall henceforth be 
called, you are a hero!” James said with 
a benevolent and pleased smile. “ Cic- 
ero pretends that the sons of heroes 
never inherit their fathers’ courage. 
Well I you have proved that Cicero was 
wrong ; you are as valiant as your father. 
You have borne yourself as a true pala- 
din. On your knees, my boy, that I 
may confer on you the order of knight- 
hood.” 

Ramsey knelt before the king, who 
took Mar’s sword, touched the young 
man three times on the shoulder, saying : 


The Room with the Iron Door. 97 

‘^Suffer that from me, but from none 
other/' 

Returning his sword to Earl Mar he 
continued : 

‘‘Rise, Sir John Ramsey, that I may 
give you the customary embrace." 

But Ramsey remained on his knees. 
“ Well ! what do you want " enquired the 
King “why do you not rise?" 

“ Sire," stammered the young man kiss- 
ing his Sovereign's hand, “ there is still a 
grace that I would beg of your Majesty." 

“ Rise, Chevalier, the grace that you 
petition is granted in advance, whatever 
it may be, provided that your demand is 
not impracticable;" replied James with 
the air of familiar gayety to which he 
had accustomed his court. 

“Nothing beyond your power, Sire," 
returned Ramsey smiling : “I only pray 
your Majesty to deign to give a private 
audience to Master Lancelot Young of 
London, and graciously to listen to the 
petition which he intends to make to the 
King of Scotland, Lancelot is the man 
of whom Ruthven told your Majesty, 
and who asserts that he brings you 
pbject of great value." ... 


98 


Flora Mac-Alpin. 


“ Ah ! you mean the treasure man,” 
interrupted the King, with a slight move- 
ment of fear. “John Ramsey, do not 
mention that man. I do not desire at 
any time in my life to interest myself 
with a treasure such as Ruthven prom- 
ised. It, assuredly, was a falsehood, in- 
vented the more securely to destroy 
ourselves and our well-beloved lords. 
Do you really believe that this man’s 
treasure is a reality ? ” 

“ Sire, I can, on my honor, assure you 
that this man declares that he has charge 
of papers for you which were confided to 
him by Francis Stuart, Earl of Bothwell, 
when this lord went into exile ; and, be- 
sides, he brings a precious object belong- 
ing to your Majesty.” 

“A precious object you tell me be- 
sides the papers of poor Bothwell ? I 
always intended to recall him to Scot- 
land, and now he is dead ! Well ! we 
will attend to it all, and I charge you, 
my brave Ramsey, to present me your 
friend, Lancelot Young at the Monas- 
tery of the Grey Friars. We do not 
desire to remain a moment longer in 
this house of murder and treason.” 


The Room with the Iron Door. 99 

The King at once gave the signal to 
depart, and took the road to the con- 
vent where he had temporarily accepted 
hospitality. 

He narrowly escaped another danger 
before he gained the pious asylum of 
the brothers. The news of the events 
that had just transpired had reached 
Perth. Lord Gowrie had for a long 
time exercised there the functions of 
provost, and the inhabitants cherished 
for him a strong affection. The city 
was greatly agitated by his death ; the 
burghers flew to arms, and collected in 
crowds before the royal palace, threat- 
ening to proceed to the house of the 
Grey Friars to avenge on James himself 
the loss of their chief. 

The alderman, with difficulty, suc- 
ceeded in calming and dispersing the 
riotous assembly. It is well known that 
history is not clear as to the details of 
this criminal attempt upon the Monarch’s 
life in Gowrie Castle, to which he nearly 
fell a victim. For a long time he be- 
lieved that he had cause to fear the 
consequences of the events which had 
there taken place. His enemies re- 


lOO Flora Mac-Alpin. 

ported that he had conceived a violent 
hatred against the brothers Ruthven, 
and to secure their destruction he had 
arranged the plot which we have nar- 
rated. 

It is not necessary to refute this impu- 
tation, because James was not only a sov- 
ereign of benevolent and magnanimous 
character but also a declared enemy to 
all violence. The suspicion could not be 
sustained with any appearance of truth. 
Among his contemporaries, however, 
there were some who regarded him as the 
guilty party in this sad affair. It was not 
until nine years after the occurrence that 
some light was cast upon this snare laid 
for him by the Ruthvens. Among the 
papers of a notary named Sport were 
then discovered several letters from Lo- 
gom de Restalrig, whom our readers will 
recall, and who died after James’s visit to 
Gowrie-House. These letters related 
that this lord was engaged to keep the 
king prisoner after Earl Gowrie should 
obtain possession of his person. It was 
conjectured, perhaps, with reason, that 
Queen Elizabeth having been so success- 
ful in ridding herself of Mary Stuart was 


The Room with the Iron Door. loi 

not ignorant ot the project to imprison 
James VI., wishing to rid herself in like 
manner of the son This still remains a 
historical mystery. 

We will resume the thread of our nar- 
rative. 

We are in the monastery of the Grey 
Friars near Perth. In an apartment of 
the convent is the King to whom John 
Ramsey is about to present Master 
Lancelot Young, holding his ebony cas- 
ket under his arm and advancing timidly 
towards Scotland’s monarch. 

“Ho! ho! is this the treasure-keeper, 
thanks to whom we have run so 
great danger?” asked James of his 
young page as the honest glazier ap- 
proached. 

When within a few paces of the King, 
Lancelot became deadly pale and threw 
himself on his knees. 

“ Rise, my good man,” said the King 
kindly. “ Be composed, you have had 
nothing to do with what has occurred. 
Show us your treasure.” 

“ Will your Majesty be pleased first,” 
stammered Master Young, to receive 
these papers which the Baron Bothwell 


102 Flora Mac-Alpin. 

confided to me, with his child, when he 
was proscribed and left for France.” 

“ A child also ! ” exclaimed J ames, tak- 
ing the papers which Lancelot presented. 
“Well! Master Young, do you think 
by accepting such a charge that you mer- 
ited to be ranked among the seven wise 
men of Greece ? For my part, I sincerely 
hope that is not the treasure which you 
promise us to deposit in our hands.” 

“ Sire, 1 believe she forms some portion 
of it ; ” replied the glazier encouraged by 
the King’s familiar tone. “Your Maj- 
esty, however, can satisfy yourself by 
looking at the papers.” 

“God of Heaven 1 ” James suddenly 
cried, after glancing at the writings. 
“ Here are the documents which Both- 
well surreptitiously obtained from me a 
long time ago, and which I supposed had 
been destroyed ; their loss was most pre- 
judicial to me. He now restores them, 
demanding in return that I take his 
daughter under my protection. A fine 
legacy he leaves us ! — But he shows in 
us great confidence;” he added after a 
short pause, “ There is in it something 
most flattering and agreeable ; it presup- 


The Room with the Iron Door. 103 

poses an extraordinary magnanimity on 
our part ; and, on my word, his confidence 
shall not go unrewarded. Master Young, 
where is this child to be found ?” 

“Sire,” answered John Ramsey, his 
eyes radiant with pleasure, “ she is here, 
in the ante-room. Your Majesty desires 
perhaps ” 

“Ah! my valiant Chevalier, you are 
interested in this affair?” said James, 
partly amused and partly astonished. 
“ Very well, introduce to us our cousin’s 
daughter. . . .” 

Scarcely awaiting the King’s permis- 
sion, the young man left the hall and 
immediately re-entered with Flora Mac- 
Alpin. 

“ Ah ! the child of Bothwell ?” enquired 
James in great surprise ; “ Really, Chev- 
alier, I now understand your eager- 
ness.” 

The King’s remark confused Flora, 
and a deep blush suffused her lace. 

“ My child,” the King kindly said, “ do 
not be disturbed. The Chevalier Ram- 
sey has a brave and noble heart, but per- 
haps you know him as well as I do. I 
suspect that you are old friends. Chev- 


104 Flora Mac-Alpin. 

alier, have I divined correctly ? ” he en- 
quired of his former page. 

“ Sire, I could not deny it ; your Ma- 
jesty’s penetration would soon discover 
my secret. I have for sometime desired 
to throw myself at my King’s feet, and 
beg his permission to unite my name 
with Flora Bothwell’s. 

“Why should I not grant it?” replied 
James, the more gratified that the wish 
expressed by the young man would re- 
lieve him of the responsibility of the 
orphan’s future. “ As the natural pro- 
tector of my subjects, I cheerfully give 
my full consent. But, wait a moment, 
Chevalier, there is one thing which 
neither you nor I took into consideration. 
What will your father say when he 
learns that we have disposed of his will 
as of our own ?” 

After a moment’s reflection, he con- 
tinued: “ By my faith, he may say what 
he pleases. The daughter of Earl Both- 
well is our relative, we are the head of 
the Stuart family. You, since we have 
conferred on you the rank of Chevalier, 
are by right free to act according to your 
own will in this matter. I hope, after 


'The Room with the Iron Door. 105 

inspecting these papers, that we may find 
some portion of BothwelFs confiscated 
patrimony, which we will restore to his 
daughter, and which will constitute for 
her a suitable dowry. Thus all is for 
the best, and what we have said, remains 
said." 

The two young people could hardly 
credit what they heard; they felt as in a 
dream from which they feared to be 
awakened. By a simultaneous move- 
ment they cast themselves at the Sover- 
eign's feet, and kissed his hand with 
effusive gratitude, as tears of happiness 
flowed down Flora's cheeks. 

Your turn now, my brave man," said 
James to the glazier, as soon as he could 
put a stop to Ramsey's and Flora's ex- 
pressions of gratitude. '' Let us see 
your gold pieces, or are they diamonds? 
no matter, show us the treasure." 

“Sire, it is here," answered Master 
Lancelot, kneeling in evident distress,* 
and opening the casket before the 
King. 

He could say no more; the words died 
on his lips. 

James at first, extended his hand to- 


io6 Flora Mac-Alpin. 

wards the casket, but he instantly re- 
coiled as from a serpent’s sting. 

“ Gossip, are you crazy ? ” he cried, vis- 
ibly alarmed, and retireing several steps. 
“ Have the others, also, lost their senses? 
You tell me of a treasure, and you pre- 
sent me an embalmed human head. 
Must we escape one danger to fall into 
another; from Scylla into Charybdis ? 
My good man, are you making a collec- 
tion of heads and, by way of rarity, do 
you propose to add a King’s head ?” 

“ Alas! Sire,” stammered Lancelot trem- 
bling from head to foot, “this head is un- 
fortunately the head of an illustrious 
Sovereign.” 

“Then I have justly suspected you!” 
exclaimed James in alarm. “ Have you 
heard, Chevalier Ramsey ? This man is 
certainly deranged; draw your sword and 
drive him away.” 

“ Please your Majesty to deign to lis- 
ten to me a moment,” said the glazier, 
depositing the casket at the King’s feet 
and raising his hands in suplication. 

“Well; speak freely, but beware of 
moving one step from your place,” an- 
swered the King a little calmer. 


The Room with the Iron Door. 107 

“ Sire, I am not crazy, thank God, but 
the anxiety I have endured for several 
months might well deprive me of rea- 
son,” replied Master Young, whilst great 
tears rolled down his cheeks. “ With 
your Majesty’s permission, I will relate 
in a few words the history of my misfor- 
tune. I am, as your Majesty knows, 
one of the two glaziers of the court of 
the gracious Queen Elizabeth. During 
several months I was engaged, with my 
colleague Breadbottom, in taking from 
the Monastery of Sheine, in Surrey, the 
stained glass windows which ornamented 
the ogives, and placing them in the 
church of St. Michael in London. After 
we had packed these marvellous chef- 
dceuvre, we learned that there were in a 
secluded part of the convent other win- 
dows of great merit ; and, in truth, we 
found some richly painted glass. Con- 
tinuing to search the place encumbered 
with every variety of articles, we discov- 
ered under a worm-eaten woollen cloth, 
a long, narrow casket, securely fastened. 

An aromatic odor escaped from it, and 
curiosity impelled us to open it. Great 
was our surprise to find a human body 


lo8 Flora Mac-Alpin. 

embalmed with costly aromatics. We 
studied a long time in vain to discover 
whose body it could be. I cannot un- 
derstand how the idea entered my mind 
to carry away the head of this myste- 
rious corpse. I took it unfortunately in 
the presence of my colleague. When I 
returned home, I placed it in this casket 
and never gave the least intimation of it 
to Miss Griselda, my housekeeper, nor 
to my pupil. Flora Mac-Alpin. Your 
Majesty could not comprehend my terror 
when my friend and neighbor. Bread- 
bottom, enquired of me : ‘ Do you know 
whose head you brought from the Mon- 
astery of Sheine? I believe it to be the 
head of King James of Scotland, who 
was killed at the battle of Flodden, and 
who, having died excommunicated, could 
not be buried in consecrated ground.’ 
If the earth had opened under my feet, I 
could not have been more alarmed than 
I was at this revelation ; I was aware of 
the edict of Henry VIII., which declares 
it high treason to mutilate the body of a 
King. I repressed my emotion as well 
as I could, and endeavored to combat 
my neighbor’s opinion ; but he assured 


The Room with the Iron Door. 109 

me that he was perfectly certain of what 
he said, that he had learned from an old 
sacristan of the Monastery of Sheine that 
the body of King James had been depos- 
ited in that house, and it undoubtedly 
lay in the spot where we discovered the 
casket. From that time I have passed 
my days in disquietude. I could not rest 
either day or night. When the Queen 
entrusted to me alone the fine glass win- 
dows of St. Michael’s Church, my solici- 
tude augmented, as Breadbottom then 
became my mortal enemy. He was mas- 
ter of my secret, master of my life ; he 
could, if he pleased, deliver me up to 
justice. This thought made me despair. 
More than once it occurred to me to re- 
veal all to the judge. In a word, I 
feared I was losing my reason. In the 
meantime, I heard of Earl Bothwell’s 
death, and I opened the letter which he 
directed me to read when assured of his 
demise. This letter enjoined upon me 
to place Miss Flora and the papers he 
had deposited with me in the hands of 
the King of Scotland. The happy 
thought suggested itself and I conceived 


no 


Flora Mac-Alpin. 


the project of immediately casting my- 
self at the feet of your Majesty, and con- 
fess every thing that had passed at the 
monastery of Sheine. Scotland’s graci- 
ous Sovereign is renowned for his mag- 
nanimity. He alone has the right to be 
offended at what I have done, to punish 
me for having mutilated the body of his 
ancestor, or to pardon me. Sire, here is 
your ancestor’s head, and here is mine.” 
As the poor man ended, the King re- 
garded him with sympathy and compas- 
sion. He silently paced the floor with 
his hands behind him; at length he 
stopped before the glazier and said: 

“ My friend, we have applied ourselves 
to the study of law from duty, from taste ; 
as King and as savant. We have sought 
to familiarize ourselves with public law, 
natural law, civil law, with the laws of na- 
tions, with the feudal law, the law for 
leases, and even canon law in order to be 
well-acquainted with the prerogatives and 
duties of a sovereign. We can address a 
dozen references to establish the enor- 
mity of the crime of one who mutilates 
or voluntarily profanes with malicious in- 
tention the sacred body of a King. But 


The Room with the Iron Door, 1 1 1 


it is a difficult question to decide when 
the person has acted, as you did, by a 
simple motive of curiosity. We will 
now examine it with all requisite care. 

'' First, answer the following questions : 

Have you really committed the act of 
which you accuse yourself? For my 
part, I doubt it, I very much doubt it, be- 
cause '' 

Sire, it is a certain fact,’' interrupted. 
Master Young heaving a deep sigh. ‘Ht 
may only exist in your imagination, con- 
tinued James; not noticing the glazier’s 
interruption, '' First, a man inclined to 
melancholy, and wishing death, is re- 
strained by religious motives from com- 
mitting the horrible act of taking his own 
life ; such a man is capable of accusing 
himself of an imaginary crime to make 
the sword of justice the instrument of sui- 
cide. 

'‘Second, You may not be sane, and 
you may imagine that all you have re- 
lated to me actually occurred.” 

“ Believe me. Sire, nothing is more cer- 
tain than what I have told your Majesty,” 
again interrupted the poor glazier. 

“ Silence, friend, do not interrupt me,” 


1 12 Flora Mac-Alpin. 

said James ; besides the discourtesy, you 
are foolishly playing with your life. I 
will continue. 

“ Third, no one accuses you but your- 
self, and that the law does not permit. 
After all, according to your own affirma- 
tions, one fact alone is certain, which is, 
that you detached the head from an em- 
balmed body. But how will you prove 
that this body was truly that of our an- 
cestor ? You will say undoubtedly, 
that ” 

“ Pardon, Sire,” Flora interrupted ; 
“ would not Master Young be really crazy 
to undertake the demonstration of which 
your Majesty speaks?” 

“That is true, my child,” replied James 
approvingly. “Your argument is what 
we call argumentum ad hominem." Again 
addressing Lancelot; “You cannot as- 
sert it, but you can say that the body in 
question has always passed for that of 
our ancestor. To that we reply, that no 
authentic details have ever been pro- 
duced of the circumstances of the death 
of the King upon the field of Flodden. 
The opinion has been strongly .supported 
that the body supposed to be his was 


The Room with the Iron Door. 113 

that of another, and that, after his de- 
feat, the unfortunate Monarch was seen 
mounted on a bay horse and riding at 
full speed. It is also affirmed that Lord 
Home, well-known for his savage cruelty 
and capable of the most odious acts, made 
his Sovereign prisoner, carried him to 
Home-Castle and threw him into a well. 
Others are confident that immediately af- 
ter the defeat of Flodden, our ancestor 
embarked for Palestine, where they as- 
sert he was seen under the humble garb 
of a pilgrim. The only testimony that 
we have of the identity of the body of 
the King with that which is preserved in 
the monastery of Sheine is derived from 
the English, that is to say, from our ene- 
mies, and according to Cicero the testi- 
mony of an enemy is of no avail in a 
court of justice. If then you have no 
more positive proof to support the accu- 
sation of treason which you have raised 
against yourself, and if therefore you 
cannot establish that the body found by 
you is positively the body of our ances- 
tor, we are compelled to decline our com- 
petency to judge. In the next place, 
we counsel you to let this affair rest, and 


114 Flora Mac-Alpin. 

to have this head quietly interred in some 
church, or Christian cemetery.” 

“ Ah ! your Majesty restores me to 
life,” cried the honest glazier, and his 
joyful tone proved that his heart was re- 
lieved of a great burden. “ But, Sire,” he 
added, with a new feeling of solicitude, 
“cannot persons, at London, occasion 
me some embarrassment on this subject 
if I have not a writing to justify me in 
case of need ? ” 

“A writing?” returned the King after 
an instant’s reflection, “ I do not think 
that it would be prudent to move in this 
affair by writing or otherwise. But do 
you desire to remain in Edinburgh? We 
name you glazier to our court, and we 
allow you a suitable salary. You consent ? 
Very well, we agree on that point; now, 
take this head and dispose of it as we 
directed ; then go and arrange your busi- 
ness in London, and return here as soon 
as possible.” 

The good Lancelot took leave of the 
King, and with a light heart quitted the 
Convent of Grey Friars in company with 
John Ramsey and Flora Mac Alpin. 

The same day James informed the 


The Room with the Iron Door. 115 

father of his former page of his son’s 
heroic conduct. He made known to him 
at the same time that he had conferred 
on the young man the title of chevalier, 
and that John Ramsey had no greater 
desire than to unite his destiny to Flora 
Stuart’s, 

The elder Ramsey willingly consented 
to a union that established an alliance 
between his line and the royal family. 
Shortly after their marriage, John Ram- 
sey and his bride went to Edinburgh and 
there met Master Lancelot, who had 
eagerly bidden adieu to London. But 
what was their astonishment to find the 
shrewish Miss Griselda transformed into 
Mrs. Young ! 

“ My good friend, how did it happen 
that you so quickly decided on such a 
step ? ” asked Ramsey. 

“ What would you, Chevalier ? ” replied 
the glazier, smiling ; “ I have had many 
troumes in my life; I hope this will be 
the last.” 


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S^v 




MARY STUART. 

1542-87. 


Mary Stuart, whose charms and 
whose misfortunes render her one of the 
most interesting figures in history, was 
born at Linlithgow Palace on December 
8th, 1542, at a moment of deepest gloom 
in the history of her country. Her royal 
father, James V., lay dying at Falkland, 
of a fever, as men said, but more truly 
of a broken heart, caused by the evils of 
the times, and the fatal issue of the 
Battle of Solway Moss. The state of the 
kingdom, exposed both to the domestic 
treachery of the nobles, and the rapacity 
of Henry VI 1 1 , of England, seemed well- 
nigh desperate ; and it is not surprising 
that the birth of a female heir to the 
throne, instead of the longed-for prince. 


1 1 8 Mary Stuart. 

should have appeared a fresh misfortune, 
not only to the nation at large, but to 
her father himself. When the news was 
brought to the dying monarch, he roused 
himself from the lethargy in which he lay, 
to exclaim in mournful allusion to the 
Crown of Scotland, “ It came wi’ a lass 
and it will gae wi’ ane.” These were 
James’s last words. Soon afterwards he 
passed away, and the infant Mary was 
proclaimed Queen of Scotland, a dignity 
which brought her unceasing strife and 
sorrow for forty-five long years. 

Tradition tells us that Mary was bap- 
tized in the Church of St. Michael, Lin- 
lithgow ; and nine months later, the baby- 
Queen was solemnly crowned at Stirling, 
it was about this time that the first coin 
bearing Mary’s effigy was issued. On it 
she appears as a round-faced baby, wear- 
ing a cap of the period, and we cling to 
the tradition which asserts that with this 
coin of the baby-Queen originates the 
Scotch name for a penny, a Bawbee. If 
our space permitted, it would be pleasant 
to linger over the description of Mary’s 
infancy, and the quaint etiquette which 
surrounded her in the morning-chambers 


Mary Stuart. 


119 

of her mother ; for Mary of Guise was too 
true a mother to suffer any separation 
from her child, and accordingly the royal 
nurseries were established under her own 
eye. There exists a charming description 
of a visit paid to the two Queens by 
Henry VIII.’s ambassador, Sir Ralph 
Sadler. This astute gentleman, having 
paid his respects to the Queen Dowager, 
begged for a sight of her daughter ; and 
Mary of Guise, conducting him herself, to 
the nursery. Sir Ralph paid his homage 
to the infant Majesty of Scotland, whom 
he describes to Henry as being “as 
goodly a child as I have seen of her age ; 
and as like to live with the grace of God.” 
This report was no doubt highly pleasing 
to the King, whose present policy it was, 
to obtain Mary’s hand for his son. Prince 
Edward ; a project warmly opposed by 
all true Scots, who saw in it only a new 
plan for the subjugation of their country. 
Henry had, however, supporters among 
the Scottish noblemen. Among the many 
prisoners taken at Solway Moss and con- 
veyed to England, he had found the tools 
he sought. Having convinced these gen- 
tlemen of the advantages of the proposed 


120 


Mary Stuart. 


marriage (especially to themselves), 
Henry despatched them to Scotland, 
where they were received with much con- 
tempt, and were styled in derision the 
“ English lords.” The Regent Arran, 
however, favored them ; and with this 
powerful ally the Queen’s union with 
Prince Edward might have become a 
reality had not Henry’s own arrogance 
defeated his plan. He demanded that 
Mary should be delivered up to him to be 
educated in England, that all treaties 
with France should be cancelled, and that 
Dumbarton and five other principal 
strongholds of Scotland should be given 
over to him ! 

We cannot wonder that such proposals 
roused the national spirit to the utmost, 
so that Sadler reports that the people 
would rather “ suffer extremity than come 
to the obedience and subjection of Eng- 
land.” Nay, that “if there be any motion 
to bring the government of this realm 
to the King of England, there is not so 
little a boy but he will hurl ston^-s against 
it; and the wives will handle their dis- 
taffs, and the commons, universally, will 
rather die than submit to it.” Warned 


Mary Stuart. 


121 


by the feeling throughout the country, 
Arran deserted Henry’s side, and con- 
senting that Cardinal Beaton should 
resume the reins of government, con- 
signed the charge of the Queen to that 
able Prelate and the staunch national 
party. 

For the next few years, however, the 
question of the English alliance continued 
to trouble the kingdom ; while the young 
Queen grew, and prospered, in happy 
unconsciousness of the grave issues at 
stake. At length, after the disastrous 
Battle of Pinkie (September lo, 1547), 
even Stirling Castle, where the two 
Queens now resided, seemed no longer 
a safe refuge for the royal child from the 
power of Henry, and the treachery of her 
own subjects ; she was consequently re- 
moved to the Priory of Inchmaholme 
on Lake Monteith. Here — in company 
with her mother, her faithful nurse Janet 
Sinclair, and her young namesakes and 
playmates, the four Maries — the young 
Queen spent some of the most peaceful 
hours of her life. 

Although Mary was only in her fifth 
year, she had already made good progress 


122 


Mary Shiart. 


in her education; and at Inchmaholme 
pursued her studies under the care of the 
Prior and another learned priest. 

French was literally her mother-tongue, 
and she like-wise learned Latin, history, 
and geography ; while her governess, the 
Lady Fleming, instructed her in the 
womanly arts of tapestry-work and em- 
broidery — accomplishments which often 
served to cheer her weary imprisonments 
in after years. Mary already possessed 
that charm of manner, the result of a 
pure and warm heart, which was to gain 
for her so many devoted friends, while it 
fascinated even her bitterest enemies ; and 
at Inchmaholme, as elsewhere, she won all 
hearts. “ Happy would it have been for 
Mary,” exclaims one of her biographers, 
“ if she had inherited no wider kingdom 
than that small and peaceful island ! ” 

Meantime, the state of the kingdom 
continued so unsettled, and the danger to 
Mary so imminent, that her mother and 
faithful councillors resolved to send her 
to France, where she could remain in 
safety until she was of an age to be 
married to the Dauphin ; a union which 
Mary’s connection with France, and the 


Mary Stuart. 


123 


alliance which had so long existed be- 
tween the two countries rendered pecul- 
iarly appropriate. It was, however, no 
easy matter to arrange for the Queen’s 
safe journey. Henry of England’s cruis- 
ers were on the alert to prevent the 
escape of so valuable a prize ; and the 
French admiral had to resort to a sub- 
terfuge to throw them off the scent. 

Admiral de Vjllegaignon, with four 
galleys belonging to the French navy, lay 
off Leith ready to set sail for France. 
This, all the world knew, and everyone 
was also aware, that when he sailed, 
according to arrangement, the Queen 
was not on board his vessel. But happily, 
Mary’s enemies were not aware that the 
gallant admiral, as soon as he was out of 
sight of land, changed his course, and 
skirting the coast of Sutherland and Caith- 
ness, the small French fleet passed 
through the Pentland Firth and made its 
way in safety up the Clyde to Dumbarton. 
Here the two Queens were awaiting it, 
and Mary was consigned to the care of 
Monsieur de Breze, who had been charged 
with the honor of conveying her to 
France, whither she was also attended by 


124 


Mary Stuart. 


her Maries, and my Lords Erskine and 
Livingstone, besides other faithful fol- 
lowers. The poor little Queen, separated 
at six years of age from her mother and 
country, was seen to weep ; but, early 
trained in those habits of self-control, ren- 
dered necessary by her sad circumstances, 
she offered no resistance ; and allowed 
herself to be carried to the galley which 
the King of France had had sumptuously 
prepared for her voyage. An eye-witness 
of Mary’s departure says that “the young 
Queen was at that time one of the most 
perfect creatures the God of Nature ever 
formed, for her equal was nowhere to be 
found, nor had the world another child 
of her fortune or hopes.” 

The voyage, in spite of the dangers to 
be apprehended, both from English ships, 
and winds and waves, was safely accom- 
plished ; and on Aug. 13th, 1548, Mary 
landed at Roscoff, on the coast of Brit- 
tany, where she afterwards erected a 
small chapel dedicated to St. Ninian in 
thanksgiving for her safety. 

Mary’s arrival in France marks a new 
and happy epoch in her existence, in 
place of the strife and danger which had 


Mary Stuart. 


125 


surrounded her in her own country. A 
life of freedom and sunshine now opened 
before her ; and the little maiden who had 
been Queen of the few faithful hearts at 
Inchmaholme, became at once, by her in- 
nocence and charm, sovereign of all 
hearts in her adopted country. 

In Brittany, Mary was welcomed with 
the honors due to her rank, and she 
made a right royal progress to St. Ger- 
main, where the King and Queen being 
absent, she was received by the royal 
children of France. Besides the Dau- 
phin, Mary was now greeted by Prince 
Charles, Prince Henry, and the three 
Princesses Elizabeth, Claude, and Mar- 
garet, all eager to welcome her as a sis- 
ter. From the first moment of their meet- 
ing the Dauphin was taught to look upon 
Mary as his future wife, and she received 
with innocent satisfaction the little atten- 
tions he paid her. All these royal chib 
dren were younger than Mary, and for 
this reason, as well as because of her su- 
perior dignity as a crowned Queen, she, 
by special desire of the King, took pre- 
cedence of all. 

The projected union of the crowns of 


126 


Mary Stuart. 


France and Scotland was very pleasing 
to the King, and from the first he took 
an affectionate and fatherly interest in 
Mary, calling her his “ Reinette,” or “ little 
Queen,” and occupying himself with ar- 
rangements for her comfort and pleasure. 
Far different were the sentiments of his 
consort, Catherine de Medicis, who ap- 
pears always to have disliked Mary, and 
in later years this antipathy proved fatal 
to the interests of the young Queen. 
Fortunately for Mary, she did not depend 
on the Queen for her education or guid- 
ance during these early years ; for al- 
though she, together with the French 
Princesses, appeared on state occa- 
sions at Court and shared in the brilliant 
gaieties of the period, her time was chiefly 
spent under the affectionate care of her 
maternal grandmother, Antoinette de 
Bourbon, Duchesse de Guise. 

This lady, whose prudence and piety 
won for her the admiration of all, took 
charge of Mary’s education ; and to her 
influence we may trace those strong sen- 
timents of faith, and of loyalty to the Holy 
See which always characterized Mary, 
as well as the tender consideration for 


Mary Stuart. 


127 


others which the Duchess’s example was 
well calculated to encourage. In Mary 
these sterling qualities were united with 
the undaunted personal courage which 
she inherited both from her Guise and 
Stuart ancestors. This gift of courage 
was specially appreciated by Mary’s un- 
cles, and the great Duke of Guise once 
said to her : “ My niece, there is one 

trait in which, above all others, I recognize 
my own blood in you. You are as brave 
as my bravest men-at-arms. If women 
went into battle now, as they did in an- 
cient times, I think you would know how 
to die well.” Little could the Duke fore- 
see how truly his words would be fulfilled. 
Yet, perhaps even in her bright girlhood, 
Mary’s countenance was not free from 
the tinge of melancholy which seemed to 
overshadow her race ; for it is said that 
when Mary of Guise showed her to the 
famous Nostradamus, he gazed long at 
the fair child, and in answer to her moth- 
er’s questions as to what he could predict 
as to her future career, he is said to have 
replied that he saw blood upon her brow. 
This anecdote is connected with a visit 
made to France by Mary of Guise in 1550, 


128 


Mary Stuart. 


a visit full of happiness to both mother 
and daughter, which, mercifully, they 
could not foresee to be their last meeting 
on earth. 

After the Queen Dowager’s return to 
Scotland, she showed her appreciation of 
her daughter’s progress by consulting her 
on private matters concerning the govern- 
ment, thus early initiating her in her fu- 
ture duties. An affectionate correspond- 
ence took place between them, while 
Mary’s uncles also kept her mother well- 
informed as to the state of her health, and 
the progress of her education. In addi- 
tion to her knowledge of Latin and 
French, Mary spoke Italian fluently, and 
wrote verses admired by such critics as 
Ronsard and Brantdme. She was well- 
read in ancient and modern literature, and, 
above all, she was a careful student of 
Holy Scripture. No womanly accom- 
plishment was disregarded by the young 
Queen, for, remarkable as were her liter- 
ary powers, she showed equal proficiency 
in lighter studies. Music and dancing 
were favorite diversions, and through- 
out her life she delighted in riding, and 
was a fearless horsewoman. 


Mary Stuart. 


129 


As we now approach the moment of 
Mary’s rnarriage, and her entry into pub- 
lic life, it may be well to give some de- 
scription of her person, and for this 
purpose we will endeavor to describe 
her as she is represented in a picture 
painted at this time, and given by herself 
to one of her faithful subjects.* 

In this beautiful portrait, Mary wears 
a dress of rich crimson damask, embroid- 
ered with gold and jewels ; her only orna- 
ment is a string of pearls with an 
amythyst cross. On her head she bears 
a little round cap ornamented with pre- 
cious stones which are raised in front, 
thus giving a regal character to the head- 
dress. The Queen’s complexion is that 
of a delicate brunette, the hair of a rich 
chestnut color, which well accords with 
the darkness of her eyes and majestic 
eyebrows ; the hair is parted in wide 
bands across her forehead, and rolled 
back above the small, delicately formed 
ear. It is not difficult to believe that 
Mary was considered one of the most 
beautiful women of her time. 

* The Earl of Cassilles — this portrait is now in the 
possession of the Marquis of Ailsa, 


130 


Mary Stuart, 


The spring of 1558 witnessed Mary’s 
marriage with the Dauphin. She was 
then in her 17th year, and the youthful 
bridegroom was two years younger. In 
view of an event of such deep importance 
to both nations, the King of France in- 
vited the Estates of Scotland to send 
deputies to Paris, to witness the cere- 
mony. The proposal met with a cordial 
acceptance, and the Scottish envoys were 
received in Paris with every mark of es- 
teem and distinction. In the midst of 
these pleasing preparations, and when 
the union of the two kingdoms seemed 
complete, a transaction occurred which, de- 
plorable in itself, also laid the seeds of 
future misfortunes. Three days before 
her marriage, the young Queen was in- 
duced to sign three secret documents, the 
legal significance of which was probably 
unknown to her. By these thrice-fatal 
deeds Mary made over the realm of Scot- 
land to the King of France, in the event 
of her own death without heirs. She as- 
signed to him possession of Scotland un- 
til he should have repaid himself the 
monies advanced by him for her personal 
expenses and education ; and, thirdly, she 


Mary Stuart. 


131 

declared that, although in the future she 
might sign a declaration concerning the 
lineal succession to her crown, her real 
wishes were contained in the two pre- 
vious declarations. It is difficult to ex- 
cuse those who advised the young Queen 
in the execution of these extraordinary 
documents ; and if, as is probable, they 
were signed by her out of deference to 
the wishes of her relations, it is an in- 
stance of one of the weak points in Mary’s 
character. Loyal and straightforward 
herself, she was easily deceived, and 
placed implicit confidence in those con- 
nected with her by blood or friendship — 
a trust which, alas ! was often fatally 
abused. 

The Queen’s declaration, however, re- 
mained a secret for the present, and no 
cloud appeared to obscure the radiance 
of the wedding-day. The young royal 
pair were united by the bride’s uncle, the 
Archbishop of Rouen, in the Cathedral 
of Notre Dame. Mary’s dress is declared 
by a contemporary chronicler to have 
been beautiful beyond description, and 
seems to have consisted of a pure white 
robe with a royal mantle and train of cutr 


132 


Mary Stuart. 


velvet embroidered with pearls. The 
train was carried by the Queen’s maidens, 
presumably the Scottish Maries. The 
Estates of Scotland had utterly declined 
to send over the Regalia for the occasion, 
but Mary* wore a magnificent crown, the 
gift probably of her uncles, or the King ; 
and round her neck hung the famous 
jewel known as the “Great Harry,” a 
present from Henry VI 1 1, to her grand- 
mother, Margaret Tudor. 

In this gorgeous apparel Mary’s beauty 
was dazzling, and it is said that one poor 
woman exclaimed that she must be an 
angel ! The wedding festivities were 
endless, and the whole country rejoiced 
in sympathy with the Dauphin and his 
wife. Adored by her young husband, and 
surrounded by the affection of her rela- 
tions and of her people, Mary’s destiny 
seemed a brilliant one indeed ; and who 
could foresee the dark days which were 
to come ? 

A few months after the marriage an 
event took place of grave importance to 
Mary. Her cousin, Mary Tudor, died, 
and the question of the Dauphiness’s 
succession to the throne of England be- 


Mary Stuart. 


133 


gan to agitate men’s minds. Elizabeth’s 
claims to the throne were denied by 
many, and failing her, Mary was un- 
doubtedly next in the succession. Her 
claims were warmly supported by the 
King of France and by nearly all the 
Catholics of England and Scotland. By 
the mere force of circumstances Mary 
was thus placed in an attitude of hostility 
to Elizabeth. She was — probably against 
her own wishes — proclaimed Queen of 
England by her French relations, who 
also caused the arms of that country to 
be engraven on her plate, and emblazoned 
on her armorial bearings. Elizabeth’s 
fear and jealousy were aroused by these 
demonstrations of rivalry, and the ques- 
tion of the succession proved for ever a 
barrier between the two Queens, and was, 
together with Mary’s faith, the true 
cause of Elizabeth’s incessant persecu- 
tion of her rival, as she considered 
her. 

Other changes were at hand. In the 
course of 1559, Henry of France lost his 
life at a tournament, and Mary and her 
young husband ascended the throne. 
Their reign was brief and uneventful ; 


134 


Mary Stuart. 


barely two years from the time of their 
marriage Francis, also, died, and Mary 
was left a childless widow, to commence 
alone the life of duty and self-sacrifice 
which the interests of her own country 
now imposed upon her. 

Within a few months of Francis’s 
death, the Queen returned to Scotland ; 
but before following her thither, we 
must cast a glance at the position of 
affairs in that country. 

The death of Mary of Guise, which 
had occurred two years previously, had 
been a severe blow to the cause of the 
Church. The government of the coun- 
try now lay in the hands of the Lords 
most devoted to the doctrines of the so- 
called Reformers, among whom Mary’s 
illegitimate brother. Lord James Stuart, 
stood pre-eminent. The after-history of 
this nobleman is well-known ; but here it 
will be well to remember that even at 
this early date Lord James had traced 
for himself a policy of antagonism to his 
sister’s interests. For some time pre- 
viously he had been engaged in secret 
dealings with Elizabeth, nor did he 
shrink from sharing that Queen’s en- 


Mary Stuart. 


135 


deavors to intercept Mary on her home- 
ward voyage. It would have been highly 
satisfactory to him, no donbt, had Mary 
been safely consigned to Elizabeth’s keep- 
ing ; and himself, in reward for his good 
services, appointed Regent of Scotland. 
The day of Lord James’s triumph was 
however still distant. 

In the month of August, 1561, Mary 
set sail for Scotland. The voyage was, 
she well knew, a hazardous one, for Eliz- 
abeth’s vessels were on the lookout 
for her, as her father’s had been thirteen 
years before, when Mary set out for 
France. On the present occasion a thick 
fog favored the Scottish Queen ; under 
cover of which she made her way safely 
home. The historian Brantdme, one of 
the gallant train of Frenchmen who ac- 
companied her, tells us of her grief on 
leaving France. She passed the night 
on deck, watching the receding shores of 
the country in which she had been so 
happy, and which a sad presentiment 
told her she should see no more. 

The friendly mist, which had facilitated 
the Queen’s safe voyage, unfortunately 
also shrouded the shores of Scotland, 


136 


Mary Stuart. 


and threw additional gloom over the 
melancholy reception prepared for her 
by her people. On reaching Leith, the 
royal party was obliged to remain on 
board their vessels until such time as the 
Queen’s lieges were ready to receive 
their mistress : and then, mounted on 
horseback, Mary, attended by her suite, 
made her entry into Edinburgh, dismount- 
ing at Holyrood. The influence of Knox 
and his followers had effectually pre- 
vented the usual manifestations of loyal 
rejoicing, suitable to the return of a 
sovereign to her kingdom ; and the only 
sign of welcome shown by the citizens of 
Edinburgh consisted in a concert of no 
very inviting kind. As night closed in, 
the Queen was serenaded by five or six 
hundred of her subjects, who sang psalm 
tunes under her windows to the accom- 
paniment of a few violins and fiddles. 
Mary, with her usual sweet courtesy, 
thanked the . musicians ; but her night’s 
rest was not improved by the inharmoni- 
ous sounds. 

Mary might well feel saddened by the 
gloomy and hostile attitude of her sub- 
jects, and the future must have looked 


Mary Stuart. 


137 


very dark ; but she was a brave woman, 
and set herself undauntedly to the task 
before her. In so slight a sketch, it 
is of course impossible to enter into any 
detail regarding the Queen’s life, social 
or political, or do more than glance at 
the chief events among the many that 
are crowded into the four short years of 
her reign. 

One of Mary’s first acts, was to issue 
a proclamation guaranteeing liberty of 
conscience to her subjects. It might 
have been supposed that what she so 
freely granted to others would not have 
been denied to herself ; but the event was 
far otherwise. Knox thundered against 
the Queen from the pulpit ; the royal 
chapels were — on more than one occa- 
sion — assaulted by the mob ; and every 
opportunity was taken to insult the faith 
which was Mary’s dearest possession. 
In other respects she soon gained the 
affection of the majority of her subjects, 
and her winning manner and kind heart 
brought her the love of the poor. In 
her charities she followed in the steps of 
her great predecessor, St. Margaret, by 
setting aside a portion of her income for 


138 Mary Stuart. 

orphan children, and by reviving or con- 
tinuing the office of “ Advocate of the 
Poor.” She would herself preside in 
court from time to time, to see that the 
claims of the poor were attended to, and 
that justice was done to them whatever 
might be the rank of their opponent. 
The Queen took a prominent part in all 
affairs of state, and in a letter to one of 
his colleagues, the English Ambassador 
draws a pleasing picture of her seated 
at her work-table in the council-chamber 
and brightening by her presence the 
grave and often stormy debates of her 
privy-council. Among the nobles who 
composed it are the well-known names of 
Arran, Huntley, Morton, Bothwell, with 
Lord James Stuart at their head. In 
him Mary confided implicitly in the early 
days of her reign, and most of her mis- 
fortunes may be traced to his influence. 
The Queen created him Earl of Mar 
some time after her arrival in Scotland, 
and finally Earl of Moray, ceding to 
him a large part of the territories 
belonging to this title forfeited by Lord 
Huntley, whose disgrace and death are 
too surely to be laid at Lord James’s 


Mary Stuart. 


139 


door. Few things in the history of this 
period are more pathetic than the 
so-called rebellion of Huntley, and the 
overthrow of this gallant Catholic noble- 
man, who should have been Mary’s chief 
support, had not the intrigues of her 
unworthy brother poisoned her mind 
against him. 

The next great political event was the 
Queen’s second marriage. Ever since 
the death of Francis this question had 
seriously occupied the courts of Europe, 
and various suitors had been proposed, 
among whom it seems probable that 
Don Carlos, son of Philip II. of Spain, 
would have been the most acceptable to 
Mary herself. But it was evident that 
any foreign alliance would be displeasing 
to the Scotch, and that of Spain in partic- 
ular, on account of the excited state of 
religious feeling in the country. A 
nobleman of English or Scottish birth 
was thus apparently the most desirable 
husband for the Queen, and Lord Henry 
Darnley seemed to unite the necessary 
qualifications. Son of Lord Lennox and 
Lady Margaret Douglas, he was the 
Queen’s cousin and a Catholic, and the 


140 Mary Stuart. 

next to herself in the succession to the 
English throne. 

Darnley was young, handsome, and 
attractive, and he won Mary’s heart in 
spite of his weak and wayward nature, 
which was soon to work such mischief 
both to her, and to himself. The mar- 
riage was solemnized in the Royal Chapel 
of Holyrood on July 29th, 1565. Darn- 
ley had been created Duke of Albany, 
but this did not content him ; and the 
Queen yielded so far to his wishes, as to 
declare that he should bear the title of 
king and sign, with her, all public docu- 
ments. Even this dignity did not long 
satisfy Darnley. From the first, his 
foolish vanity made him enemies among 
the nobles, while his weak and unworthy 
conduct was a constant source of anxiety 
to Mary. Other troubles weighed upon 
her at this time also. Knox and his 
followers were making fresh efforts, on 
the score of religion, to disturb the peace 
of the kingdom ; in which they were 
encouraged and supported by Moray 
and others of the lords. The Queen 
herself took the field against the insur- 
gents ; and this rebellion, the second in 


Mary Stuart, 


141 

two years, was easily crushed. Moray 
and his confederates escaped to England, 
where they found liberty to plan further 
mischief. 

The next plot against the Queen’s 
peace ended in a tragedy well-known to 
all ; and the fact that her husband was 
involved in it, gives a peculiar horror to 
the crime. We have said that Darnley’s 
ambition was not yet satisfied ; he aimed 
at obtaining the crown-matrimonial ; and 
in his discontent Moray and the dis- 
affected nobles saw an apt instrument for 
the furtherance of their designs. They 
accordingly persuaded Darnley to enter 
into a convention with them, in which 
they pledged themselves to maintain his 
right to the crown, and the supreme 
power ; Darnley, on his side, promising to 
uphold their interests, and to protect 
them, in case of failure in the execution 
of their plans. These general resolu- 
tions soon took a definite form and 
purpose, the first fruit of which was the 
death of an innocent victim in the person 
of the Queen’s Italian secretary, David 
Rizzio. This able foreigner had won the 
Queen’s favor by his talents and faith- 


142 


Mary Stuart. 


fulness. She employed him for her 
private correspondence, and sought his 
advice in state, matters. He was unpop- 
ular with the proud nobles, who could 
not brook seeing one of Rizzio’s inferior 
birth and position preferred before them ; 
and to Darnley he was specially displeas- 
ing, as it was known that he had upheld 
the Queen’s resolution not to grant the 
dignity Darnley sought. The confed- 
erate lords therefore determined that 
Rizzio should die, and to cloak their 
proceedings, they endeavored to provoke 
Darnley’s jealousy, by spreading reports 
derogatory to Mary’s honor. Darnley 
seems to have paid little attention to 
these false accusations, but, inflamed by 
his own ambitious wishes, he consented 
to take part in the cowardly plot. 

On the evening of the 9th of March, 
1566, three hundred armed men sur- 
rounded Holyrood ; some of whom en- 
tered the palace, while the rest remained 
outside to guard the approaches to the 
building. Darnley’s apartments were on 
the ground-floor, under those occupied by 
the Queen ; and here he awaited Ruthven 
and the other accomplices. Darnley then 


Mary Stuart. 


143 


led the way up the private stair, through 
the Queen’s bed-chamber, into the small 
turret-room where she was at supper 
with the Countess of Argyll, Lord Rob- 
ert Stuart, and three of her attendants, 
among whom was the unfortunate secre- 
tary, Here, regardless of the Queen’s 
presence, or of her condition — for she 
was shortly expecting the birth of her 
child — Rizzio was cruelly murdered, and 
every insult offered to Mary herself, who 
endeavored to protect him. That night 
the Queen was a prisoner in her own 
palace ; and to what extremities the rebels 
would have proceeded we cannot tell, 
had not Mary’s own courage procured 
her release, and that of the unworthy 
Darnley, who had, by a partial confes- 
sion, obtained her forgiveness. 

On the second night after the murder, 
the royal pair escaped from Holyrood 
and rode to Dunbar. Here they were 
safe ; but Mary was, as she wrote to one 
of her uncles, a Queen without a king- 
dom. Happily this state of affairs was 
of short duration ; her loyal subjects 
rallied round their sovereign, and ten 
days later Mary returned in triumph to 


1 44 Mary Stuart. 

Edinburgh. Darnley, who had acknowl- 
edged only a portion of his own share in 
the late crime, now turned informer and 
revealed the names of some of his accom- 
plices. These in their turn laid before 
the Queen the two bonds with their fatal 
signatures, and she thus became aware 
of the extent of Darnley’s treachery and 
ingratitude. We can imagine what such 
a revelation must have cost Mary ; and 
the utter faithlessness of her husband 
must have caused her to distrust all 
around her ; but she was, as always, too 
forgiving. At this moment, when her 
condition unfitted her for political cares, 
the peace of the kingdom was her first 
thought, and a reconciliation was effected 
for the time between her and her rebel- 
ious lords. Edinburgh Castle was con- 
sidered the safest residence for her at 
this time ; here, therefore, she took up 
her abode, and on the 19th of July the 
pealing of cannon announced the birth 
of an heir to the throne. This event 
seemed a promise of future peace and 
prosperity to the kingdom, and for a 
time all parties united in common rejoic- 
ings. Elizabeth herself sent messages 


Mary Stuart. 


H5 


of good will and congratulation, and 
agreed to be god-mother to the infant 
Prince. 

It had been arranged that the baptism 
should take place at Stirling ; but before 
that event the Queen’s life was placed in 
great danger by a serious illness at 
Jedburgh, whither she went to hold the 
Assizes. On this occasion Mary’s cour- 
age edified all around her. Aware of 
her danger, she prepared for death with 
great faith and calmness. Addressing 
the noblemen who surrounded her, she 
commended her son to their care, and 
implored them not to persecute the 
Catholics. She declared that she died 
in the Catholic faith, and that she par- 
doned all who had injured her, and es- 
pecially, Darnley. 

The latter, whose conduct was becom- 
ing more and more heartless and capri- 
cious, was not with her during her 
illness, but on her convalescence he paid 
her a hasty visit. It was about this 
time that the designs against this un- 
happy prince first come before our 
notice. The chief noblemen whom he 
had so deeply offended had determined 


146 


Mary SluarL 


upon his ruin. The first step in these 
proceedings was to suggest to Mary that 
she should consent to a divorce or sepa- 
ration from her unworthy husband, and 
for this purpose a deputation consisting of 
Murray, Argyll, Maitland, Huntley, and 
Bothwell waited upon her. To their pro- 
posal, however, Mary returned a distinct 
and dignified refusal. “ I will,” said she, 
“ that ye do nothing through which any 
spot may be laid on my honor or con- 
science ; and therefore, I pray you, rather 
let the matter be in the state that it is, 
abiding till God of His goodness put 
remedy thereto.” 

Thus balked in their wishes, Maitland 
and his accomplices set themselves to 
plan a deadlier method of revenge. 

In the meantime, the Court assembled 
at Stirling for the baptism of Prince 
James, which was performed on Dec. 17th 
with great magnificence. Mary bore 
her part in the festivities with her usual 
grace and amiability, but she was sad at 
heart, for Darnley had — from a feeling of 
pique and jealousy — utterly refused to be 
present on this happy occasion. He fore- 
saw that he would not be treated by 


Mary Stuart. 147 

Elizabeth’s envoys with the deference 
and honors he desired. He therefore 
withdrew to Glasgow, where he was 
shortly afterwards seized with the small- 
pox. Illness often effects a moral cure, 
and Darnley, sick and lonely, began 
to regret his cruel and wayward be- 
havior, and sent to request Mary to go 
to him, which she hastened to do. 
A happy reconciliation took place, and 
Darnley begged Mary never to leave 
him. It would have been more fitting 
had Darnley undertaken never again 
to desert his wife ; but Mary was too 
happy at the change in his sentiments to 
quarrel with the manner of their expres- 
sion. Towards the end of January, Darn- 
ley was sufficiently recovered to travel to 
Edinburgh ; here — in order to avoid 
any risk of infection for the baby-Prince 
at Holyrood — the King was lodged in 
a house in the south part of the town, 
called the Kirk o’ Field. In this place, 
destined to be so fatal to him, Darnley 
was comfortably established, and here the 
Queen was with him constantly. 

In these last days of his life. Darn- 
ley’s better nature asserted itself, and 


Mary Stuart. 


there seemed a greater prospect of 
future happiness for the royal pair than 
had ever before been the case. But 
these hopes were not to be realized ; 
Darnley’s enemies had now matured 
their plans, and on the 9th of February 
the blow was struck. Shortly after mid- 
night Edinburgh was startled by the sound 
of a terrible explosion. The house of 
Kirk o’ Field had been blown up, and the 
lifeless body of the King was found lying 
within a few yards of the building. The 
precise manner in which Darnley met his 
death will probably never be known ; but 
from the fact that his body bore no 
marks of violence it is conjectured that 
he did not suffer in the explosion, but 
was intercepted and strangled as he was at- 
tempting to make his escape. Bothwell, 
whom we now know to have been the 
chief actor in this tragedy, brought the 
fatal news to the Queen, on whom the 
shock fell the more heavily that she had 
parted from her husband but a few hours 
before in good health and spirits. 

In her grief, Mary showed all the 
energy of her character ; her one wish was 
to discover her husband’s murderers. 


Mary Stuart. 


149 


She had also fresh cause of anxiety for 
herself and her helpless child ; for she 
well understood that by Darnley’s assas- 
sination the conspirators had gained 
another step in their secret warfare 
against the throne. Mary’s feelings at 
this moment of trial are well summed up 
in a letter to her ambassador in Paris, to 
whom she expresses herself in these 
terms : “ God has (we are persuaded) 
saved and preserved us in order that we 
should fittingly punish this horrible 
crime ; for rather than leave it unpunished 
we would prefer to lose our life and our 
all. We are assured that whoever may 
be the authors of this crime the enterprise 
was in reality directed against our own 
person, as well as against the King.” As 
may be easily imagined, the discovery of 
the criminals was an impossible task, as 
they were themselves among Mary’s most 
trusted advisers and officers, and their 
common danger united them in every 
endeavor to defeat suspicion. 

Popular rumor, however, soon fixed 
upon Bothwell as the principal instigator 
of the crime, and darker whispers, accus- 
ing the Queen herself of complicity, were 


Mary Stuart. 


150 

industriously circulated among the excited 
people. In thus, for the first time, 
coupling the name of the Queen with 
that of Bothwell, Mary’s enemies were 
preparing the public mind for the irrepar- 
able disasters which were to follow. So 
far Bothwell’s position had not been a 
very prominent one. As Warden of the 
Marches, his duties kept him absent from 
Court, and he was better known as a 
warrior than as a courtier. He had 
hitherto proved himself a faithful subject, 
and was one of the few noblemen who 
were not in the pay of England ; but his 
moral character was of the lowest, and 
his bad passions, aided by his boundless 
ambition, made him a fit tool for the 
designs of the conspirators. Aware of 
the Earl’s ill-directed ambition to obtain 
the Queen’s hand, they saw in this pro- 
ject an easy method of working the 
Queen’s ruin and attaining their own 
ends. 

Before their plans could be matured, 
however, Bothwell had to stand his trial 
for the murder of the King — if trial it 
may be called, where the judges were 
bound by the circumstances of the case 


Mary Stuart. 1 5 1 

to acquit the prisoner, their own accom- 
plice. 

Shortly after this farce of justice, we 
find Mary’s chief nobility, headed by her 
brother, signing a petition to implore her 
to marry Bothwell. The Queen declined 
this extraordinary proposal ; but Bothwell 
was determined to effect by force what 
he could not obtain by persuasion. On 
the 24th of April (1567), accordingly, as 
the Queen was returning from. Stirling, 
where she had been visiting her little son, 
Bothwell, accompanied by a large force, 
intercepted the royal party, and o® the 
plea of having discovered some' plot 
against the Queen, persuaded her and 
some of her retinue to take refuge in his 
Castle of Dunbar. Here, instead of find- 
ing safety from danger, fresh perils 
awaited her, for she found herself the 
Earl’s prisoner. These days must have 
been the darkest in Mary’s life. What 
sorrows in the past, or" future, could com- 
pare with the indignities which, according 
to Bothwell’s own confession, were then 
heaped upon her ! He did not hesitate 
to resort to violence to attain his end, 
and before the Queen was permitted to 


152 


Mary Stuart. 


return to Edinburgh he had obtained her 
consent to the marriage. This step, so 
fatal in its results, has been so amply dis- 
cussed by Mary’s biographers that we feel 
a diffidence in approaching a subject to 
which it is impossible to do justice within 
the narrow limits of our sketch ; but it 
will be well to draw attention to the 
following facts. 

Mary’s enemies would have us believe 
that the Queen had for some time already 
indulged in a guilty passion for Bothwell, 
and that she was an only too willing 
bride ; but happily the simple facts of the 
case are a sufficient refutation of such a 
charge. We find that, after undergoing 
the insults we have mentioned, Mary, far 
from being a free agent, was virtually 
kept a prisoner till the day of the mar- 
riage. She was allowed to return to 
Edinburgh, but only under Bothwell’s 
care, who kept her under strict ward and 
guard until she became his wife. That 
Mary was forced into the marriage 
sorely against her will is also apparent 
both from her own report of the transac- 
tion, and from the testimony of contem- 
porary witnesses of high character. It 


Mary Stuart. 


153 


is evident that, under the circumstances 
of the case, no other course was now 
open to her. 

The second great charge against 
Mary, founded on the supposition that 
Bothwell’s first marriage was a valid one, 
and that, therefore, she was consenting 
to an immoral and illegal union, can now 
by grave documentary evidence also be 
entirely disproved. Bothwell’s marriage 
with Lady Jean Gordon, was already 
annulled for the cause of consanguinity, 
both by the Pope’s Legate in Scotland 
and by the Kirk ; and that the Church 
sanctioned the Queen’s marriage is made 
evident by the presence of the Primate 
and two other Catholic Bishops at the 
ceremony. The marriage took place on 
May 15th, and there were present be- 
sides the Bishops alluded to, the Earls 
of Crawford, Huntley and Sutherland, 
together with several other noblemen 
and gentlemen. Moray, as we know, 
had conveniently absented himself dur- 
ing this period of unusual trial for his 
sister ; but his signature at the head of 
Bothwell’s “Band” leaves no doubt as to 
his sentiments regarding the marriage. 


154 


Mary Stuart. 


One important person refused to be a 
witness of an act which he deplored, — 
Du Croc, the French ambassador ; — but 
he paid his respects to the Queen in the 
course of the day, and he tells us that he 
found her in the deepest dejection. She 
told him that she only desired death. 
Melville, her trusted attendant, corrobo- 
rates this statement in even stronger 
terms. This unhappy union only lasted 
one month. Those who had built up, 
now hastened to destroy. The nobles 
who had urged the Queen to marry 
Bothwell, rose to deliver — as they said 
— their beloved mistress from his hands ; 
and to execute justice for the King’s 
murder, which was now openly laid at 
the Earl’s door. 

On June 15th, the opposing parties 
met on Carberry Hill, and here, without 
a blow being struck on either side, Mary 
virtually lost her kingdom. The Queen, 
anxious to avoid bloodshed, endeavored 
to come to terms with the rebels, and at 
length determined upon the fatal step 
of placing herself in the hands of the 
confederates, who protested their entire 
loyalty to her person. She first, how- 


Mary Shiart. 


155 


ever, required that Bothwell should be 
allowed to depart in safety. His late 
accomplices dared not refuse, and he left 
the field a free man, unhindered by the 
very men who had so loudly declared 
war against him. The Queen and Both- 
well never met again. 

As soon as the confederates had the 
Queen in their power, their true senti- 
ments became apparent. Mary was sub- 
jected to every species of insult, and 
after being imprisoned for a night in 
Edinburgh, she was hurried to Loch- 
leven Tower and consigned to the care of 
Sir William Douglas, and his mother, from 
whom she could hope for no sympathy. 

The Queen being thus safe in prison, 
the first object of the rebels was to give 
a color to their proceedings. For this 
purpose they again signed a “bond,” 
reiterating that they had taken up arms 
to deliver Mary from the “thraldom and 
bondage ” to which Bothwell had sub- 
jected her ; adding that they did so in 
“ lawful obedience to our sovereign” as if 
Mary herself had given orders for her 
own imprisonment. Such a declaration 
needs no comment. 


156 Mary Stuart. 

The position of the confederates 
seemed indeed full of danger. Their 
number was small, by far the greater 
portion of the higher nobility being still 
loyal to the Queen, while both England 
and France denied their support. For 
once Scottish rebels met with no sympa- 
thy from Elizabeth, who seems to have 
been sincerely horrified at the attack on 
Mary, and the outrages offered to her, 
both as a woman, and a sovereign. 

In France, the young King Charles 
warmly sympathized with his sister-in- 
law, for whom he had always had a real 
affection ; and his sentiments would have 
taken a more active shape had not his 
mother, who had never loved Mary, 
interposed her influence, to arrest the 
assistance he was willing to send. For 
the present, therefore, the amicable feel- 
ings excited on behalf of the hapless 
prisoner bore no fruit. Elizabeth’s ef- 
forts to effect her liberation were stead- 
ily eluded, and at last entirely crushed, 
by the policy of her chief adviser, Cecil ; 
and many months passed before the 
courage and devotion of some of her 
subjects brought about the Queen’s re- 


Mary Stuart. 


157 


lease. In many ways this imprisonment, 
at the hands of her own ungrateful 
nobles, must have been far harder for 
Mary to bear than the long years of her 
captivity in England ; but her faith 
and resignation, and her bright, hopeful 
spirit, helped her through the weary 
days. There was one person in whose 
affection the Queen still trusted, wonder- 
ful as it seems. She looked forward to 
Moray’s return, in the belief that he had 
the will and the power to effect her de- 
liverence. He, on his side, was hasten- 
ing back to secure the prize he had so 
long desired, and in the meantime was 
endeavoring to strengthen his position 
by spreading a fresh report against his 
sister. It is from him that we now first 
hear of the famous ■“ Casket Letters,” as 
they are called. These letters, which 
purported to be written by the Queen to 
Bothwell, contain the only proof ever 
produced of Mary’s complicity in Darn- 
ley’s murder ; and, if genuine, they 
would, without doubt, have established 
her guilt. The Queen’s enemies, there- 
fore, make much of them, even now, 
when the evidence of their being forg- 


1 58 Mary Stuart. 

eries seems to be overwhelming. It is 
well to remember that Mary’s own con- 
temporaries did not believe in them ; for 
when Moray, later on, took them to 
England to incriminate his sister, so 
little was thought of his pretended 
proofs, that he had to take back the 
letters ; and we hear no more of 
them. 

Meanwhile, grave events were occur- 
ring of cruel significance to the Queen. 
Before Moray reached home, Mary had 
signed the abdication extorted from her 
by force, and her young son had been 
solemnly crowned at Stirling. Before 
accepting the regency now offered him, 
Moray went through the farce of visiting 
his sister, and endeavoring to win her 
consent and approval ; but in this inter- 
view, Mary’s eyes were opened as to his 
true character, and she utterly refused his 
request. 

As the year of the Queen’s captivity 
drew to a close, a gleam of hope and pros- 
perity shone on her fortunes. By the aid 
of a few faithful attendants, Mary escaped 
from Lochleven, and was joined by the 
loyal Hamiltons and several other noble- 


Mary Stuart. 


159 


men. For a moment it seemed as if she 
would be restored to her throne, and the 
cause of loyalty triumph ; but the disas- 
trous battle of Langside destroyed these 
hopes, and Mary, regardless of the advice 
of her truest friends, took the most fatal 
step of her life, and determined to throw 
herself upon the mercy of the English 
Queen, 

In entering upon this, the third and 
last period of the Queen’s life, we must 
bid farewell to those episodes of earthly 
glory and happiness, which, like golden 
threads, have hitherto been interwoven 
with her history. 

The next nineteen years lie stretched 
before us in a long monotony of baffled 
hopes, and weary captivity, until the end 
is reached at Fotheringay, Could Mary 
have foreseen what was in store for her 
when she entered England, she might 
well have applied to that country Dante’s 
famous line, “ Leave every hope, ye who 
enter here,” We, who know the sequel, 
wonder how it was that the Queen could 
make the fatal mistake of trusting Eliza- 
beth ; but once more Mary’s own loyal 


i6o Mary Stuart. 

nature misled her, and this time the error 
proved irremediable. 

Mary and her small retinue of faithful 
subjects landed at a point on the English 
coast, called to this day Maryport. Here 
she was received by the Deputy Warden 
of the Western Marches and conducted 
to Carlisle, where it was agreed she should 
remain until Elizabeth could be informed 
of her arrival. At first the English 
Queen’s sympathies were aroused, and it 
seemed as if she would welcome Mary as 
became their mutual rank and relation- 
ship ; but the old jealous policy soon pre- 
vailed, and Mary, instead of an honored 
guest, soon found herself the prisoner of 
her sister-Queen. 

Now begins a series of political in- 
trigues which ended only with Mary’s life. 
Could Elizabeth and her Scotch confed- 
erates have proved to their own satisfac- 
tion that Mary was guiltj' of the great 
crimes imputed to her, their path would 
have been easy, and Mary’s fate would 
soon have been sealed ; but the proofs 
brought forward to criminate her, failed, 
as we have said, to convince even those 
most anxious of being persuaded of her 


Mary Stuart, 1 6 1 

guilt. Unable to condemn Mary on 
these grounds, Elizabeth still, however, 
pursued her short-sighted policy, and 
determined to keep her cousin in her own 
power ; and in so doing, she prepared for 
herself, also, nineteen years of misery. 
This was only natural : so long as the 
Queen of Scotland remained a prisoner, 
so long did her friends and adherents 
endeavor to procure her freedom ; hence 
the constant succession of plots and con- 
spiracies both in England and abroad 
which distracted Elizabeth’s reign, and 
brought with them ready punishment for 
her injustice. 

During these years Mary passed 
through every phase of trial and humili- 
ation. Seven times her prison was 
changed, through some fear or fancy of 
Elizabeth’s. The damp of these abodes 
and the sedentary life gravely affected 
her health ; while the constant possibility 
of death by poison, or secret assassination, 
would have crushed the spirit of any ordi- 
nary woman ; but Mary never lost hope 
or courage, and by her bright unselfish- 
ness cheered the failing spirits of the 
attendants who so faithfully clung to her 


i 62 


Mary Stuart. 


fallen fortunes. If we seek for the source 
of Mary’s heroism, we shall find it in the 
Faith which had always been her support. 
In all her trials she saw, and lovingly 
accepted, God’s will for her. Prayer was 
her constant solace ; powerless as she was 
to work actively for God’s glory, her 
thoughts and prayers were occupied with 
His interests, and those of His Church ; 
and she often expressed her desire to lay 
down her life for the Catholic faith. In 
this little sketch it is impossible for us to 
attempt any connected history of the 
period of the Queen’s imprisonment : we 
will therefore confine our attention to the 
last year of Mary’s life, with its final 
trials, ending in the death, which, igno- 
minious in the sight of men, was welcome 
to her as the end of all her sorrows, and 
the commencement of her true happiness. 

The first days of the year 1586 found 
the Queen established at Chartley, in 
Staffordshire, a welcome change from 
her last cold and damp prison at Tutbury. 
The new year also brought her fresh 
hopes of freedom. Spain was moving 
on her behalf, and her English friends 
were unfortunately not idle. We say 


Mary Stuart. 


163 


unfortunately, because nothing more un- 
happy in its execution, or more disas- 
trous in its results, can be imagined than 
the conspiracy known as the Babington 
Plot. This project had a two-fold object ; 
the rescue of Queen Mary, and side by 
side with this, a design conceived by a 
few desperate individuals for the assas- 
sination of Queen Elizabeth. The latter 
project was carefully concealed from 
Mary ; but she knew, and, as was natural, 
keenly sympathized with the efforts 
for her deliverance. Walsingham, — now 
Elizabeth’s prime minister, — through his 
innumerable spies, was aware of the con- 
spiracy long before it was ripe ; and deter- 
mined to make use of it for his own ends. 
Hitherto no evidence had been produced 
against Queen Mary sufficient to justify 
her death in the eyes of the law ; but now 
the minister saw his way to destroy her, 
by involving her in the plot against the 
person of Elizabeth. Through the treach- 
ery of some of the conspirators, and the 
connivance of Walsingham, and Mary’s 
jailer. Sir Amyas Paulett, an ingenious 
method of introducing letters to the 
Queen in prison, and of receiving her 


164 


Mary Stuart. 


replies, was instituted, by which she was 
completely deceived. For some time 
Mary corresponded freely with her friends 
abroad, and her adherents at home ; each 
of her letters was opened and read by Wal- 
singham and his assistants, resealed, and 
sent on to its destination, with, we have 
every reason to believe, such additions 
and alterations as the minister considered 
useful for his purpose. When the matter 
had progressed as far as it was deemed 
necessary, the blow fell. Babington and 
his associates, the comparatively innocent 
agents in the plot, were imprisoned to 
await a cruel death, while the Queen of 
Scots was hastily removed from Chartley, 
and her private papers seized, in the hope 
that they would contain the longed-for 
evidence of her complicity in the pro- 
jected attack on Elizabeth. No such evi- 
dence, however, was forth-coming, and the 
position of Elizabeth and her ministers 
became one of difficulty. From hatred 
of Mary’s religion, and jealousy of her, 
as next in succession to the Crown, Eliz- 
abeth desired her cousin’s death. She 
still, however, hesitated. To take the life 
of a sister-Queen was a crime from which 


Mary Stuart. 


165 

even she shrank ; she dreaded the opinion 
of her fellow monarchs, and she feared 
the judgment of posterity ; but in the end 
jealousy prevailed. Supported by the 
wishes of her ministers, she determined 
to bring Mary to trial for the pretended 
crime of conspiracy against her life. 

On September 25, 1586, Mary was 
conveyed to her last prison, the Castle 
of Fotheringay. This gloomy fortress, 
a fitting place for the tragedy which was 
about to follow, seems to have impressed 
the Queen with sad forebodings from the 
first. As her carriage entered the gate- 
way, she exclaimed, '' I am lost ! '' 

On October 15, the captive Queen, who 
lay ill in bed, was visited by three of 
Elizabeth's Commissioners, who had 
brought her a letter from that Queen, 
demanding her, in obedience to the laws 
of the kingdom, to answer the questions 
which should be put to her. Mary re- 
plied with dignity, that being a crowned 
Queen, she could not be judged by sub- 
jects, declaring at the same time that she 
was innocent of any attempt against her 
cousin. The Commissioners again en- 
deavored to persuade Mary to consent 


Mary Stuart. 


1 66 

to the proposed trial, but with no 
greater success. Elizabeth, informed of 
this, wrote again to Mary, urging her to 
submit, and hinting at future assistance 
if she would consent. On receiving this 
letter, Mary yielded. Once more, rely- 
ing on Elizabeth’s sympathy, and confid- 
ing in her own innocence, she placed her- 
self at the mercy of her enemies. 

Two days later, the Great Hall at 
Fotheringay presented a strange spec- 
tacle. At one end was erected the 
throne and canopy of state, representing 
the absent Queen of England ; close to 
which was placed an inferior seat for the 
royal prisoner. The judges and their at- 
tendant lawyers and notaries occupied 
the body of the hall. At nine o’clock in 
the morning, Mary appeared, escorted 
by halberdiers, and supported by her 
faithful master of the household, Mel- 
ville, and her physician, Burgoing. 
When she saw all the preparations, she 
said sadly: “I see many advocates, but 
not one for me.” 

The Lord Chancellor opened the pro- 
ceedings by declaring that, in bringing 
the Queen of Scotland to trial, his mis- 


Mary Stuart. 167 

tress was actuated by “ her sense of 
duty, and the needs of God’s cause.” 

In reply, Mary formally protested 
against the injustice of her trial. “ If I 
consent to answer,” she said, “ it is of my 
own free will, taking God for my witness 
that I am innocent.” The act of accusa- 
tion was then read, in which she was 
declared guilty of having known of, and 
participated in, the plot against Eliz- 
abeth. In support of the accusation, 
copies of letters were shown purporting 
to be Mray’s, but, as on all similar occa- 
sions, no original documents were forth- 
coming. The alleged confessions of Bab- 
ington, and the Queen’s secretaries were 
also produced. 

The trial continued for two days, dur- 
ing which time Mary, alone and unaided, 
defended herself with a dignity and 
vigor which confounded her judges. “ I 
am innocent,” she said ; “ God knows it. 
My only crimes are my birth, the in- 
juries which I have received, and the 
religion which I profess. Of my birth 1 
am proud ; I know how to pardon the 
injuries ; and as for my religion, it has 
been my hope and my consolation in my 


1 68 


Mary Stuart. 


afflictions, and I am ready to seal it with 
my blood. I should be happy, at that 
price, to purchase relief for the op- 
pressed Catholics.” In the face of this 
defence, and in the absence of all real 
proof against the prisoner, her judges 
were silenced. Elizabeth hesitated once 
more ; she then determined to preside 
herself at a fresh trial ; but true to her 
fixed resolve never to see her cousin, 
Mary was not suffered to plead her cause 
in person. The court re-assembled at 
Westminster: here the documents were 
again produced, and this time Mary’s 
secretaries were brought forward as wit- 
nesses. Here was strange justice; at 
Fotheringay, in the presence of the ac- 
cused, no witness appeared ; now, in her 
absence, they are allowed to appear. 
On this occasion, the result of the trial 
justified Elizabeth’s hopes ; every voice, 
save one, pronounced Mary guilty of 
death : and Parliament, hastily sum- 
moned for the purpose, confirmed the sen- 
tence. 

On November 19th, Lord Buckhurst 
brought the news to Mary ; she received 
it with perfect calmness, and again pro- 


Mary Stuart. 


i6g 


tested her innocence. When Buckhurst 
advised her to prepare for death, and 
offered to send a Protestant clergyman 
to assist her, she gently replied that she 
had never desired to change her religion 
for any worldly good, and would not 
now do so : adding that she would 
heartily welcome death. On the follow- 
ing day, Paulett caused the Queen’s can- 
opy to be removed, telling her that she 
must now be considered a dead woman, 
deprived of all the privileges of royalty. 
Mary accepted the humiliation without 
complaint, and placed a crucifix where 
the canopy had stood. 

Mary now looked for immediate death ; 
but three months elapsed before the sen- 
tence was carried out. During this pe- 
riod of suspense, when the Queen had 
reason to fear she would be put to death 
secretly, she wrote to Elizabeth, begging 
her to allow her the grace of a public ex- 
ecution, so that her servants and others 
might bear witness that she died true to 
her faith, and tO' the Church ; and thus 
prevent false rumors being spread by 
her enemies. This remarkable letter con- 
tains the following touching passage : I 


170 


Mary Stuart. 


pray the God of mercy, and the just 
Judge, that He will enlighten you, and 
give to me the grace to die in perfect 
charity, forgiving all who unite to bring 
about my death. This will be my prayer 
to the end. Do not accuse me of pre- 
sumption if, on the eve of quitting this 
world, and while preparing myself for a 
better, I remind you that one day you will 
have to answer for your charge, as well 
as those who have preceded you.” 

It might have been supposed that 
Elizabeth would have listened to her 
cousin’s appeal ; but on the contrary, she 
continued to wish that Mary, if possible, 
should be secretly murdered, in which 
case she flattered herself she could shift 
the blame on to others, and deny partici- 
pation in the crime. Walsingham did 
not hesitate to inform Paulett of their 
mistress’ hardly concealed wish ; but the 
latter, though rough and hard, was a man 
of honor, and utterly declined to be an 
assassin. 

Elizabeth’s ministers, impatient of the 
delay, at last determined to put an end to 
the Queen’s indecision, and took upon 
themselves to hasten the execution of 


Mary Stuart, 


171 

the warrant. For this purpose the Earls 
of Shrewsbury and Kent, together with 
the clerk of council, named Beale, were 
despatched to Fotheringay, "where they 
arrived on the 7th of February, 1587. 
They at once demanded to see Mary. 
She was ill in bed, but as the Commis- 
sioners declared that their business was 
urgent, she rose and received them, 
seated at the foot of her bed, and sur- 
rounded by her household. 

Shrewsbury informed her that his sover- 
eign, yielding to the wishes of her people, 
had decreed that the sentence of death 
should now be put into execution, and he 
read aloud his commission. Mary made 
the sign of the cross, and calmly replied 
that she welcomed the news he brought 
her. '' I am happy,'' she said, '' to leave 
this world, where I am no longer of any 
use ; and I regard it as a signal benefit that 
God wills to take me out of it, after the 
many pains and afflictions I have endured, 
for the honor of His Name and of His 
Church ; that Church for which I have 
always been ready to shed my blood, 
drop by drop." Laying her hand on a 
New Testament, she added, '' I take God 


172 


Mary Stuart. 


to witness that I have never desired, ap- 
proved, or sought the death of the Queen 
of England.” Mary then asked for a 
short delay, in order to complete her will, 
and put her affairs in order ; but Shrews- 
bury answered roughly that it was im- 
possible ; she must die the next morning, 
between seven and eight o’clock. 

The Queen then petitioned that her 
confessor, who was imprisoned in another 
part of the castle, might be with her to 
help her to prepare for death ; but this 
consolation was also denied her. Shrews- 
bury and Kent now urged her to confer 
with the Protestant Dean of Peterborough; 
but this Mary indignantly refused. Kent 
then told her that it had been concluded 
that she could not live without endanger- 
ing the State, the Queen’s life, and the 
Protestant religion. “Your life,” he said, 
“would be the death of our religion ; your 
death will be its life.” Mary replied that 
she was far from considering herself 
worthy of such a death ; adding that she 
humbly received it as a pledge of her 
admission amongf the chosen servants of 
God. 

When the Commissioners had with- 


Mary Stuart. 


173 


drawn, the Queen endeavored to com- 
fort her sorrowing attendants, and bade 
them rejoice with her that the end of all 
her trials was at hand. She hastened 
the hour of supper, as time pressed, and 
there was much to do. 

Her servants came and went about her, 
striving to show their zeal and devotion, 
though overcome with grief. At supper, 
Burgoing, replacing Melville, who had 
been of late separated from his mistress, 
ministered to the Queen with hands 
trembling with emotion, and the tears 
falling. The only person who remained 
calm and cheerful was Mary herself. At 
times she seemed plunged in deep 
thought, or smiled to herself as if she 
possessed some happy secret. 

After supper, she called her household 
round her. The faithful companions of 
her misfortunes threw themselves at her 
feet, imploring her with tears to forgive 
them any offences of which they might 
have been guilty towards her. “ With 
all my heart, dear children,” she answered 
with a gracious smile, “as I also beg you 
to pardon any injustice, or harshness I 
may have shown towards you.” She then 


174 


Mary Stuart. 


begged them to pray for her, and exhorted 
them to remain constant to their faith, 
and to live united in Christian charity. 

Mary then spent some time in dividing 
her wardrobe, jewels, etc., among her at- 
tendants, and entrusted them with little 
gifts for her son, the King and Queen 
of France, and others who were dear to 
her. 

She also wrote two letters, one to De 
Preau, her chaplain, begging him to 
watch and pray with her in spirit during 
this her last night on earth, and a fare- 
well letter to her brother-in-law, the 
King of France. When all her sad du- 
ties were accomplished, Mary lay down 
to take some rest, while her sorrowing 
women watched and prayed beside her. 
Mary lay with her eyes closed and her 
hands clasped, looking so happy that she 
seemed, as one of her women touchingly 
expressed it, “ to be smiling at the an- 
gels.” The attendants noticed that she 
never slept, but was absorbed in prayer 
and contemplation. 

At six o’clock, the Queen rose and 
dressed herself with care, as if for some 
grand and joyful ceremony. She then 


Mary Stuart. 


175 


entered her oratory, where she remained 
in prayer until Burgoing, fearing for her 
strength, ventured to disturb her and im- 
plored her to take some food. This she 
did, thanking him gratefully for his 
thoughtful care of her. Almost imme- 
diately afterwards, a loud knocking was 
heard at the door. It was the High 
Sheriff, who had been sent to conduct 
the. Queen to the place of execution, 
“ Let us go,” said Mary in a firm voice, 
and leaning on Burgoing’s arm, she led 
the way to the door. Here the Sheriff 
interposed to prevent her attendants 
from going further. They loudly pro- 
tested against this cruel order, and Mary 
gently observed that it was hard that 
they might not be with her to the last. 
She finally obtained leave for two of her 
women to accompany her- to the scaffold. 

At the bottom of the great stair, 
Melville, her faithful old follower, was 
permitted to approach. When he saw 
his mistress, he threw himself at her feet 
in grief and despair; but she comforted 
him, bidding him rather rejoice to see 
her so near the end of all her sorrows, 
and commanded him to bear her last 


176 


Mary Stuart. 


blessing to her son. The sad procession 
now advanced to the Great Hall, which 
was to be the scene of death. It was 
hung entirely with black, and at the 
further end was erected the scaffold. 

Three hundred spectators were as- 
sembled in the body of the hall ; while in 
the courtyard outside, an immense crowd 
had gathered, guarded by two thousand 
soldiers, as it was feared a rescue might 
be attempted. Mary moved towards the 
scaffold, calm and majestic, her coun- 
tenance serene, and her whole bearing 
that of one who was preparing for some 
great happiness. Arrived at the foot of 
the steps, she accepted Paulett’s arm, 
thanking him pleasantly for this the last 
service she would ask of him. 

When the Queen was seated, Beale 
read aloud the sentence. Shrewsbury 
then turning to Mary said : “ Madame, 
you hear what our duty demands pf us?” 
“ Do your duty,” she replied, simply ; 
and addressing herself to the witnesses 
of her death, she reminded them in 
touching words, of her long and unjust 
imprisonment, thanked God Who had 
given her the grace to die for her faith. 


Mary Stuart. 


177 


and once more protested her innocence 
of the crime imputed to her. When she 
ceased speaking, the Dean of Peter- 
borough placed himself before the scaffold 
and urged her to listen to his exhorta- 
tions. Mary gently declined; and as he 
persisted, she turned away and prayed 
aloud, invoking the Holy Spirit, confid- 
ing herself to the intercession of the 
Blessed Virgin and all the Saints ; pray- 
ing also for her son, for Queen Eliza- 
beth, and all the interests of the Church. 
Then after kissing her crucifix, she ex- 
claimed, “ As thy arms, O my God, were 
extended on the Cross, do Thou extend 
over me Thy arms of mercy ; graciously 
receive me, and pardon all my sins.” 

The fatal moment had now come. 
Kneeling against the block the Queen 
waited for death. As she repeated the 
verse, “In Thee, O Lord, have I hoped, 
let me not be confounded for ever,” the 
signal was given, and the soul of Mary 
Stuart passed to its eternal reward. 


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